Quirkless
by J-The-Legend
Summary: Born the Quirkless son of England's Number One Hero, Jared Wreath has much to prove. Yet in a world saturated with heroes his chances of standing out are minuscule... That is until he encounters Maisie Collard, a girl with a talent for creating unique gadgets out of practically anything. With her help, Jared works towards becoming the first Quirkless hero... no matter what!
1. Prologue

**Alice Wreath**

* * *

She pulled her car to the side of the road, just outside of the primary school. The day was barely halfway through, and already her son had gotten into another fight. She wondered what had riled him up this time, before switching off the ignition, undoing her seatbelt, stepping out of the car and locking it behind her.

She knew the way to the head master's office, she had been there enough times to remember it with ease. As she walked down the colourful hallway she passed a crowd of upset children heading in the other direction, led by a pair of angry teachers. Alice averted her eyes awkwardly, not wanting to catch their judgmental glares. She and the school knew each other all too well, and not for the best of reasons.

She reached the large, windowed door to the headmaster's office and peered inside. There was her son, Jared, sat with his arms folded in a rebellious slump against the desk. Opposite to him was the headmaster of the school, Cedric Underwood; a small, wiry man with pale green hair that folded into curling spirals and a nose like a blushing doorknob. As Alice pushed the door open, he turned his keen gaze towards her, his brows narrowing to a thin point.

"Thank you for coming at such short notice, Mrs Wreath." He said, his tongue within his mouth after every K sound.

Alice looked at her son, who turned away with obvious shame. To his left was a window, which looked out upon the small football field at the back of the school. A small class of children in sports clothing were kicking a ball around. Alice Wreath sat down upon the chair next to Jared.

"I was in the middle of a meeting. I had to rush to get here." She apologised in a voice that was unquestionably rehearsed. "What has he done this time?"

Mr Underwood leaned forwards on his desk, his spiralling hair twisting into thicker, tighter spirals of its own occurred, like cobras coiling to attack.

"Your son deliberately and viciously assaulted another child this morning, Mrs Wreath." He said with a deliberate, unamused tone.

Alice gasped with shock, though her expression betrayed her knowledge that this was not a first offence. She looked at her son, who continued to stare out of the window, slumped back into his seat, his blue hoodie hanging on his small body, which was a few sizes too small for it.

"Jared…" Alice muttered with disappointed. Her son did not respond, though he gave her a small glance back. Even though he was trying to hide it, she could see the small twinges of guilt upon his expression. "What did he do exactly?" She asked, having been through this process multiple times before.

Mr Underwood scratched his bulbous nose with a thin, wrinkled finger. "Jared was seen, during class, visibly and without provocation, punching Anthony Francis in the face, all the while calling him a 'Blue-faced Prat'." He said, the fingers of his other hand shuffling a few papers at the edge of his desk. "As I'm sure you understand, we cannot have behaviour like this within the classroom."

Alice sighed. The same boys, every time, with the same insults.

"He started it." Jared snapped suddenly. "He called me Quirkless!"

"I'm afraid that is no excuse for your actions, young man." Mr Underwood responded sharply. "Even if they said something that hurt your feelings, that gives you no right to go around punching people, nor mocking them for their appearance."

"But he _does_ have a blue face!" Jared argued. "Just like you have green hair and a large nose!"

Mr Underwood stared at him, shocked. Alice quickly put a hand on her son's shoulder, trying to silence him.

"Jared, not now." His mother hissed. Jared looked at her, his anger not subsiding.

"I didn't hurt him that badly!" He continued to complain. "His inflation Quirk protected him. He barely felt it."

Mr Underwood glared down at Jared, sitting straight in his chair and reaching a full inch higher than he had before. His hair was rearing like a nest of snakes, quivering at the tips, which unfolded into thin yet sharpened points.

"That still does not make it right!" Mr Underwood bellowed. He sat back, breathing out, calming himself down. He turned back to the mother of his student, now composed. "If you wouldn't mind, Mrs Wreath, I would prefer to continue this conversation without Jared's presence."

Alice gave her son a small glance, and Jared, still stroppy and angry, got up from his seat and stomped out of the room.

"Wait outside the door. I won't be five minutes." Alice told him. Jared gave her a look, before slamming the door behind him.

Mr Underwood let out an exhausted sigh, and he slumped further back into his chair. Alice also let go of her more parental demeanour now that her son was out of the room.

"This is the fourth time your son has been sent to see me this month, Mrs Wreath." Stated Mr Underwood with a grim frown. His hair began to unwind slowly, falling across his face in long, twitching strands. "I'm afraid we can't keep allowing this to happen. I've had complaints from several parents about foul language and violence, all involving your son."

"It's just a phase he's going through." Alice tried to argue, wanting to reassure the teacher that this behaviour was not a normality. "Give us some time, we'll sort it out."

"I would like to believe you, Mrs Wreath…" Mr Underwood continued. "…but as I said, four times Jared has acted out this month alone, and we're receiving too many complaints from the parents of other children. Your son is continuously disturbing the class with his outbursts and shouting, his angry words, his flying fists. If these aggressive bouts do not stop then I'm afraid you will have to search for another school."

Alice put a clenched hand to her chin, hiding her quivering lip. Jared was only seven years old. Far too young to be getting violent with other children. All this aggression was making her sick with worry.

"I'm sorry that we must continue to meet this way, Mrs Wreath." Mr Underwood said quietly. "I have much respect for your husband. Our school doesn't usually take in Quirkless students, though for the countries number one hero we are prepared to make a few exceptions. Yet, when it comes to student safety, we cannot make any acceptations. If Jared continues to behave in this manner then I'm afraid we will have to consider expulsion."

Alice closed her eyes. Those were the words she had been dreading to hear.

"I understand." She stood up from her seat. "This will not happen again… I promise you."

"You said that the last time we met." Retorted the headmaster, his tongue prodding the innards of his upper lip. "Yet here we are again."

Alice nodded solemnly. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew how likely it was that she and Jared would be coming back to the headmasters office.

Jared waited exactly where his mother had said. When Alice left the office, she found him standing opposite the doorway, leaning against a wall display of children's biology sketches with his arms crossed. He looked at her, angry and upset, and she could only stare back with disappointment, then look away with sadness.

"Let's go home." She said quietly. She reached out a hand, and Jared took it, and together they walked out of the building.

As they left the school and returned to the car, Alice placed her keys in the ignition, but hesitated before turning it on. As Jared fastened his seatbelt in the passenger's seat beside her, she turned and looked at him. She was not at all happy. Jared looked back, with his angry, hateful eyes. She was always surprised by just how much he looked like his father. The same green eyes, the same black hair, the same determined personality.

"The fourth time in a month." She said, her voice stern, unimpressed and, above all, disappointed. "Four times in one month. This cannot keep happening, Jared. You can't keep taking out your anger on other people when they upset you. You'll never make friends that way."

"I don't need friends." Grumbled Jared, folding his arms angrily as he leaned back into the soft seat.

"Everyone needs friends, Jared." His mother told him, her stern tone fading quickly. "Those boys pick on you because you're an easy target, but that doesn't mean you have to retaliate."

Jared didn't respond immediately. After a few seconds he asked…

"Why is it wrong for me to call Tony Francis a Blue-faced Prat?" Jared asked.

Alice sighed deeply. This was a question that was tough to answer, especially in a way that would appease the anger of a young, bullied, prejudiced child.

"Mocking a person for their Quirk is just something we don't do, Jared." She tried to explain. "He can't help the Quirk he was born with any more than I can or Mr Underwood can. We're all born different."

"He's allowed to call me Quirkless, though." Jared argued.

"I know." Alice agreed, her voice betraying the deep empathy and sadness in her heart. These situations were tricky to resolve, and she knew better than most that the way Jared was treated by the school was unfair. She looked at him, and tried to give him a more cheerful, hopeful smile. "But who cares if you don't have a Quirk yet? I don't care. You're still Jared, my little boy."

"Dad cares." Jared said quietly.

His mother looked at him sadly. "Your father is just upset, that's all. He had big hopes of training you to become a hero, like he is. He's not angry at you. If anything he's angriest at himself." _And at me_ she thought to herself.

Jared curled up into a ball on his seat, wrapping his small arms around his small legs, pressing his head against his knees. His oversized hoodie consumed him like a blue blanket. Alice put a hand on her son's shoulder and tried to comfort him.

"There's always the possibility that you're a late bloomer." She suggested "That happens. Sometimes a Quirk doesn't manifest early on, and takes another year or two to develop. Maybe this time next year you'll have a Quirk like mine, or like your fathers."

"Alexis already has her Quirk, and she's five." Jared continued to mope. "And Julian will probably get his in a few years."

"You don't know that for sure. Julian might end up being just like you."

"He won't, though." Muttered Jared.

Alice fell quiet, not sure what she could say to cheer her son up. Then slowly she smiled and turned to him.

"I know what you need right now." She said with a wry grin. "You need a visit from the Silly Police."

At that name Jared shrunk into his seat, his arms folding tight around his body, his expression anxious yet stifling a smile. Alice grinned, and she flexed the muscles in her cheeks, taking in a large breath of air.

 _"'Ere, Sergeant, I think we've got a sad li'l boy over 'ere."_ She said in a high pitched cockney voice that sounded nothing like her own.

Jared held in a fierce chuckle. Alice lowered her chin and puffed out her cheeks, and spoke once more in a much lower, pudgier sounding tone.

 _"It seems that's what we 'ave, Constable. I think he needs a tickle to cheer 'im up."_

Jared squealed as his mother began to tickle his ribs and armpits. He kicked and flailed and laughed uncontrollable.

"Stop it." He complained, trying not to burst out laughing.

His mother smiled at him. This was the one thing she could do for him at this time. Using her Quirk, which was called _Parroting_ , she could perfectly mimic any sound which she heard to the exact pitch and volume. The _Silly Police_ was a sketch involving two fat and thin puppets in blue police uniforms being outwitted by the same criminal over and over. Alice remembered learning later on that the actor who played all three roles was born with a Quirk which made his hands leathery like that of a puppet. It aired on a show called _Pip's Multiverse_ , which she had watched as a child. That show had long since gone off air, yet she remembered it fondly, and now she used it as a way to cheer up her children whenever they were upset.

Alice hugged her son tightly, embracing him in her warm arms. Jared hugged her back, his smaller arms barely reaching around her thin body.

"Just because you're Quirkless doesn't mean you're not important." She whispered to him. "Even if you never develop a Quirk, you'll always be my son, and you'll always be important to me."

"I know, mum." Jared whispered back. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart." She kissed her child on the forehead, and smiled kindly down at him. "Don't worry about school. If it's really that bad then maybe we should consider home-schooling you. It's not worth wasting your father's money if you don't learn anything."

Jared looked at her. Obviously the idea had never crossed his mind.

"Maybe..." he muttered. His mother smiled at him. With the both of them belted in, Alice Wreath started the ignition and began reversing the car onto the empty road.

"We should have a discussion about what possibilities are available to you in the future. That might help you feel better about not having a Quirk" She added.

"Okay." Said Jared.

"Things will get better in time." Said told him comfortingly. "They always do."

With those last word, the car halted, and began driving forwards at a slow pace down the urban road, away from the primary school.

Jared didn't remember much about that part of his life, nor much about his mother's suggestions. He barely even remembered what she looked like.

Because one week later... Alice Wreath died!


	2. Chapter 1 - The Quirkless Boy

**Jared Wreath**

* * *

He slumped onto his knees, exhausted, panting, sweat dribbling down his forehead and blurring his eyes. He could barely feel his legs, which were like jelly under his weight. The world around him was loud and fast. His head was ringing painfully.

"Come on, Jared! Get up!" Came the shout of the school's PE teacher, Hercule Payne. He slapped his bulky fists together, his wide teeth clenching with adrenaline.

Jared stared at him, fighting tears and yells of pain. As he knelt on the concrete field he heard the eager, excited shouts of the other students running past him, the slaps of their sports trainers ringing in his ears as he was lapped yet again.

This was the third exam he had taken, and it would be the third exam he failed if he could not get back to his feet. The task was simple; complete as many laps around the field as you could manage within an hour. He only needed to complete twenty laps to pass, and while the field was not especially large and already many of the students had surpassed that minimum pass grade, Jared was falling far behind, having only completed five.

He just could not keep up with the other students. This was not because he was unhealthy. He was certainly not skinny nor muscular, but he was not overweight either. He fit perfectly in the middle area between these states. That was partially the problem. The other problem was his Quirk… or rather, his lack of one.

Jared Wreath was one of less than twenty percent of the population to be born without a unique power or body part. While not exactly rare, Jared had met very few other people like himself, born without the uniqueness of a Quirk. The few he had met seemed perfectly happy living sedimentary lives, like potatoes in a damp garden surrounded by tropical fruit trees. But that was something Jared did not want. He wanted to stand out, he wanted to be seen, he wanted to be recognised. That was almost impossible without the assistance of a Quirk.

Since the discovery of Quirks, and the rapid growth of the populace that developed Quirks, society had been forced to adapt to accept the variety of new situations and problems that came with it. For example, it had become a public taboo to judge anybody by the way they looked, no matter how abnormal or strange they may seem to the norm. While not illegal, a perpetrator of such an act would be shunned and ostracised by their neighbours. As for the laws, while varying from country to country, most places had realised that the rules had to change to acknowledge the uniqueness of Quirks. There were laws made to define what kind of Quirks can be used in public places, the danger levels each Quirk could possess to others, possible hazard situations that Quirks may cause, and many other scenarios had to be thought through. The biggest change of all was the developments in crime and crime prevention. Criminals began using their Quirks to commit criminal acts while avoiding police, pulling off massive heists with barely any planning time beforehand. In retaliation to this, the police had begun utilising Quirks as a way to prevent these incidents. Not long after this, people began taking inspiration from classic comic books, dressing up in capes and spandex and using their Quirks to legally prevent crime alongside the police. This was the birth of the Hero movement, which had now been going on for close to one hundred years.

However, while the world had adapted to accept and respect people with Quirks, the same could not be said for its treatment of those without them. As the number of people born with Quirks outgrew the number born without, the small number of people born without Quirks were seen as second class citizens. They were paid less, had less job opportunities, and were less likely to be accepted into school or university, and even if they did it was liable they would be ignored by most teachers. They were more likely to be judged and mocked and laughed at, more likely to be shunned. Some places wouldn't let these people in, as if they were stray dogs. While this situation was less severe in countries like Japan, Denmark, Sweden and Norway, it was very bad in Europe and North America, especially in England. The world had unanimously named these people as Quirkless, and to people like Jared it might as well be a racial slur.

Jared had grown up within this environment, and had seen many of the extremes. The only reason he was able to go to school at all was because his father had twisted a few arms thanks to his fame and renown. Jared wondered if it had been worth it, for his father or for him. He had still gone through the bullying, the name calling, the judging, the exclusion from certain places, the inability to find even part-time, unpaid work, and after all that he felt he had learned almost nothing from his time in education. But the worst part of all was the disappointment. That came from his father most of all, but it also came from himself. The one thing he had been fighting for all his life was a chance to prove himself. He needed a chance to stand up and say that, even without a Quirk, he was as capable as anyone else. Yet in a world dominated by heroes, villains and superpowers, the milquetoast normals like Jared were silenced out by the crowd. The only people able to stand above the crowd were the heroes, and only people with Quirks could become heroes. It was a horrid cycle of exclusivity.

As he knelt on the ground, sweating and panting heavily, he was lapped yet again by several students, all of whom had Quirks that propelled them along. Some students had stronger muscles, others had multiple limbs, some created lubricous liquids which they used to slide forwards, some had thinner bodies which created less air resistance, some had spring-like heels, some had speed Quirks, some had endurance Quirks, some had energy Quirks… one boy had the body of a centipede, yet even he was still running, keeping up with the group. Jared was the only one there who was born with no Quirk. He was the only one that was either brave enough or stupid enough to try.

There was no chance of catching up with them now, he knew that. The bodies of the capable students were moving in a blur. His vision was failing from exhaustion. Unable to stand and unable to finish the exam, he was dragged to the edge of the field by the P.E teacher, where he sat against the brick wall that surrounded it, his head low in shame.

He waited there for the exam to end, which took another forty minutes. As the whistle was blown and the students slowed to a halt, he saw them all walking away, discussing the number of laps each had completed. Jared could hear some of them from where he was sitting. Some of them had about thirty to forty laps, others were in the fifties and sixties. One boy, who had stayed at the front of the group using a speed boosting Quirk, had around seventy-three laps… and after all that, Jared only had five.

When all the students had left the field, Jared was finally confronted by Mr Payne. He looked up to see the bulky, middle aged sports teacher standing over him. He had the kind of judgmental face that a medieval execution might wear if their mask were to be removed just before an execution.

"This was your third exam, Wreath." He stated matter-of-factly. "Why did you even bother showing up?"

"I had to try." Jared muttered. "I need to prove I can do it."

"You barely did five laps. You knew that the minimum needed to pass was twenty, yet you gave up after getting tired." Mr Payne folded his arms, scowling. "That doesn't strike me as someone wanting to prove themselves."

Jared did not respond to that. He sat in thought, his head hanging low.

"I think you should quit this fantasy of being a hero." Mr Payne continued. "You're not cut out for it. Today is proof of that."

Jared shook his head.

"No. I'll keep trying. I'll get there."

Mr Payne gave Jared an unnatural looking stare of empathy.

"Listen, son, if you keep doing this you'll only hurt yourself." He warned him. "You're not the first Quirkless kid I've seen go through stages like this. You think you can make it out there as a hero, but you've never even seen that world. People out there will eat you up if you've got no Quirk. You should give up while you can, for your own sake."

Jared looked his teacher in the eyes. The man had once been a hero, just like Jared's father. His Quirk created stronger protein strands within his body, which made his muscles stronger and more flexible than the average persons. During a fight with a very powerful villain the muscles in his left heel had been ripped out. Unable to recover from the wound, he had been forced to retire early. Jared didn't doubt that the man understood how dangerous the world of heroes was, but he refused to let his doubts stand in the way of his dream, his only hope to achieve something within this society.

"I can't give up. Not yet. I have to prove to everyone that I can be a hero without a Quirk."

Mr Payne raised an eyebrow. "Do you have to prove that to everyone, or just to your father?"

Jared fell quiet. He looked at the floor again, sadder than before, as he recalled the expressions of disappointment his father so long ago. They were the only things he had ever given him. Being the child of a famous hero was difficult enough, but being Quirkless as well…

"Do you think that I still have a chance of…?" Jared trailed off. The expression on Mr Payne's face said everything he needed to know.

"They'll never accept you." He told his student honestly. "You're just not cut out for that world, Jared. I'm sorry, but it's time you accepted that."

Jared's head drooped further, almost falling into his lap. He could do little but fight against the rush of tears wanting to fall from his eyes.

Mr Payne walked away, unable to say much else. As the school day came to an end, Jared was left feeling the same sense of loneliness that had been with him his entire life.

* * *

Jared left school that day feeling miserable. This was not uncommon for him. He barely had any happy days while in education, not since his mother's death. That had been nine years ago now. He was sixteen years old, Quirkless and lonely.

On the way out of school he bumped into another Quirkless student, Finlay Michaels. He and Finlay had an on-and-off friendship. Like Jared, Finlay was born with no Quirk into a hero's family, yet unlike Jared he had chosen to accept his situation and focus his life upon other, more mundane goals. This clash of ideals often led to arguments, which lead to a broken friendship and a desire to avoid communication. Yet Jared always ended up returning to him, because Finlay was the only other person he knew who had no Quirk.

Today, Finlay was in just as bad a mood as Jared. As he approached, Jared saw the tired and miserable expression on his face, and Finlay saw the same one on his.

"It didn't go well, did it?" Finlay realises.

Jared shook his head. "I didn't even manage five laps."

"I told you it was pointless. You'll never outdo the others, not without a Quirk. It's best to just not try." Said Finlay.

"I'm not trying to outdo anyone." Argued Jared. "I'm trying to make a name for myself, to prove I'm capable. Why don't you stand up for yourself?"

Finlay shrugged. "It just makes everything easier. We're outnumbered, Jared. We always will be. It's best to just accept that, move on with our lives and try to make the best of this crappy situation."

Jared looked at him. It was quotes like this that made their friendship so rocky. "Does your dad not get upset that you can't be like him?"

Finlay shrugged again, as he often did when faced with a difficult question. "He does, but he's come to terms with it. He know that I'll never be like him, so he doesn't expect as much from me. He wants me to just succeed with what I can manage. He's actually been supporting me with my business studies. I told him I want to work toward opening my own general store in town once I leave school, and he's really eager to help me."

Jared had never understood that. Finlay's father was the Number Forty-Three hero in the UK, and Finlay was his only child. Yet he was perfectly prepared to accept his son for who he was and allow him to chase the unadventurous and ordinary goals he had. Jared's father was the Number One hero in the UK, and had three children, two of which had a Quirk already, yet he seemed to despise Jared and continuously crushed his dreams of making his name as a hero. How could two people in such similar positions have such different approaches to the same problem?

"But don't you want to just prove people wrong?" Jared asked. "Imagine if we could be heroes, even without a Quirk, even just for one day. Imagine what we could do to change people's minds!"

Finlay just gave him a look of resigned hopelessness.

"Being a Quirkless hero won't make them respect us, Jared." He told him with a miserably realistic honesty. "They'll never respect us because we'll never be like them. We should both just accept that and do what we can to survive."

Jared looked away. He didn't want to accept that. He _couldn't_ accept that. It went against everything he stood for. If he couldn't achieve his lifelong goal and prove himself as a hero then what was the point of surviving. He would be living a humdrum, pointless, unfulfilling life. He may as well not exist.

"Besides, I doubt a man like Ravenhead would want either of us as students, anyway." Finlay continued. "It was a stupid idea to think we had a chance."

Finlay was referring to a recent announcement that had been publicised just about everywhere. Several European heroes were gathering together to train a small number of students to become heroes. The UK already had plenty of Hero Schools and Colleges, several of which were located within their very city of Galafrei. But this one was different. This one was a yearlong course, which would be running from August to June, and was being organised by several of the most famous heroes within the country, including heroes within the top twenty-five. One of those heroes, the most famous and beloved out of the bunch, was the Number Ten hero in England, Ravenhead. Some even suggested that this was his idea from the start, though the authenticity of that suggestion was debatable.

Jared had first seen the announcement on TV. Ravenhead himself had given an interview on the subject, discussing the purpose and goals of the course. Initiations were running throughout July for anyone keen to join the course. The course was open to anyone at the age of sixteen and above, which meant that adults could also take the course if they wished, though it was made clear that they would not be accepting individuals that were already upon a hero course. The purpose of the course was to train a group of capable students that, because of any number of legitimate reasons, were incapable of taking any other hero courses. Ravenhead had made it clear that this was not supposed to be a quick or easy way to become a hero. It would only be happening the once, and only students they felt would fall into this category would be accepted.

That had been three days ago. It was the third of July today, and Jared had gotten his hopes up. He had seen a chance to achieve his goals, and reached out for it, not caring for how far away it seemed. He fit perfectly into the requirements. He could not take any other Hero training course because they would not accept Quirkless students. Today had been the day he hoped to prove himself capable. Mr Payne had agreed to support him in taking the initiation exam if he could complete the twenty laps. The fact that he had failed seemed not only unfair but also cruel.

Jared and Finlay walked through the centre of Galafrei City, past the bustling shops and cafes, till they reached the suburbs near the edge of the city.

It was here that the two of them went their separate ways. Finlay took a left turn at a roundabout to follow a main road towards his house, while Jared took a right, walking down a small cycling road through a park. A large patch of tall grass was sprouting near the edge of the park, and the cooing of nesting pigeons was loud and soothing upon the evening breeze.

Jared walked for another half kilometre before reaching his home, a large, well kept, three story house, with white brick walls, double glazing windows and a brown front door with a cluster of sturdy locks attacked to it.

Jared whipped out a key chain from his school bag, and one by one began opening each and every lock. Only when the last lock had been undone did the door finally slide open. He stepped inside, throwing his shoes off and dropping his bag down beside the stairs. Nobody else was home yet. His father's car was not parked on the front, and their maid left an hour before his class ended to pick up his younger siblings.

He hurried up to his room and threw himself onto his bed. He buried his face in his pillow, fighting back the rising sorrow that had been building in his heart like water within a dam. Once again, as was always the case, Jared felt alone in the world.

* * *

Forty-five minutes had passed before another member of the family returned home, and by then Jared had calmed down. He sat on his bed, lying against a pile of pillows, a flat screen TV on at the opposite end of the room, heavy red bags dropping under his tired eyes. An opened comic book sat on his lap, his eyes scanning the pages lazily.

He heard footsteps climbing the stairs. There was a knock on his door. He didn't move to open it. A voice boomed out from the other side, like the bellowing of a titan rising from the depths of the earth.

 **"Jared. Open the door. I wish to speak to you."** Said the voice of his father, loud and booming, fierce like a lion's roar.

Jared didn't budge an inch. He rolled his eyes, and flicked over a page of the comic.

"I know that's you, Alexis. I'm not in the mood." He said wearily.

His door opened slowly, and around it popped the head of his younger sister, smiling cheekily.

"Ah, how did you know?" She asked.

Jared looked at the TV, choosing to ignore her. He curled his lip in annoyance.

"Dad never announces himself before entering." He said simply.

Alexis groaned, annoyed. "Well, you have to admit, I'm getting better at impersonating him."

Jared shrugged. Alexis had developed their mother's Quirk, much to their father's disappointment. It had taken her some time to master the process of parroting her family, but by this point she had developed it into an art.

"So, how did it go?" She asked her older brother, perching herself upon the end of his bed. Jared shrugged again.

"As well as you'd expect." He muttered.

Alexis hummed. "That badly, huh?"

Jared nodded. Alexis looked about, not sure what to say next. She gave him a hopeful smile.

"Well, if you keep persevering, I'm sure you'll…" She stopped after seeing his expression, those green glaring eyes filled with weariness and anger. The stare he gave her was strong enough to burn a hole through a lead wall. "Then again…" She continued, perturbed.

Jared turned his eyes back to the comic. In the background the TV flashed in a multitude of colours repeating over and over

"Keep persevering." Jared muttered sourly. "That's dad's motto. Keep persevering… as if everything can be fixed by time and effort alone!" He turned a page. "You know, he says that about everything… except my chances of becoming a hero."

Alexis gave him an empathetic look.

"Wallowing in self-pity doesn't help you, either." She told him. "You'll become a hippo if you wallow all the time." She added, poking at his stomach.

"It's easy for you to say that, you have a Quirk." Jared muttered. "And a useful one at that. I don't."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you can't do _anything_." She told him. Suddenly she stopped, an expression of recollection on her face, and she smiled with beaming pride. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you…" She stood up, arms behind her back, grinning proudly. "I got the results of my audition back today… I've been accepted into the school choir."

She bared a massive grin, full of beautiful, well kept, shining teeth, and her big green eyes reflected that same joy. However, that joy quickly faded away with the expression of disinterest on her older sibling's face.

"Good for you." Jared muttered.

"Good for me?!" Alexis repeated slowly. The joy she had been feeling seconds before contorted into an ignored annoyance "It _is_ good for me! I spent months practicing for that. I stretched my vocal chords to breaking point to get the notes right, and all you can say is 'good for you'?"

"You were always going to get the part." Jared said nonchalantly. "Your Quirk would be useful to them. That's all."

Alexis stared at him, perplexed. Her annoyance and surprise contorted again into a bubbling fury.

"It always comes down to Quirks with you!" She growled angrily. She puffed up her throat and began speaking in Jared's voice. " _I'm Jared, and all I care about are other people's Quirks. Quirk this. Quirk that. Quirk the other one. It's your Quirk that people like, not you! I don't have a Quirk. I'm Quirkless. Have pity on me!"_

"Stop that!" Jared snapped coldly.

Alexis didn't listen to him. She glared at him, annoyed and angry. "You always let Quirks define people!" She stated sternly. "You're obsessed with them! It's like you can't see anything past them!"

"Get out!" Jared said slowly, crossing his arms around his chest to stop himself from shivering. His own anger was beginning to well up inside him, and he was not in the mood to quell it.

"It's only because you don't have one, though…" Alexis continued, not realising just how far she was pushing Jared's buttons. She pointed a sharp fingernail at her prone older brother. "If you did then maybe you'd understand how unimportant they actually are!"

Jared grabbed a pillow and threw it at his sister. Alexis dodged, and the plump piece of cloth and stuffing sailed past her head and hit a bookshelf behind her, knocking a pile of comic books onto the floor.

"Get Out!" Jared shouted, fury in his eyes that only just masked the sorrow.

Alexis stared at him. For a small second she seemed shocked, like she hadn't expected Jared to react this badly. That shock quickly retreated to let anger take its place.

"Fine." She snapped. "Sit and sulk for all I care."

She slammed the door behind her, knocking a few more comic books off the shelf with the force.

Jared curled up on his bed, burying his head in the pillows, and he began to cry into his sheets.

* * *

It was past eight o'clock at night when Jackson Wreath returned home. Jared heard him opening the front door. He had a habit of throwing doors upon with full force, so it was always easy to know when he was around.

By this point of the day everyone else had already made it home. Julian and Alexis had both been picked up from their relevant schools by the Wreath's maid, Petra. Petra lived in a spare room on the first floor of the house. She was paid well, and she worked hard to keep the house in check and care for the plants and children within it. She did more than just clean and tidy. She also cooked, washed, dried, cleaned, collected, organised, planned and scheduled practically everything within the household. All of these were made easier by her Quirk, which allowed her to stretch her arms to almost any length. This meant she could do things like hoover the living room while washing the third floor windows. She had been a part of their family for eight-and-a-half years, not long after since their mother had died. Her presence had allowed Mr Wreath the time to focus on his job, and avoid worrying about keeping the house clean and caring for his children. In that respect, Petra was a better parent than he was.

Jared ignored all of this; the sound of Julian rushing about the house, with Petra's hoovering and cheerful humming occasionally reaching his ears. He didn't even leave his room for dinner. Instead he waited for it to be taken up to him. Petra had been through this process several times before. She knew to simply leave his meals outside his door. Today she had made Spanish omelette. The plate which it had rested on now lay upon his bed, bare of food save a few small crumbs.

When Jackson walked into his son's room, he found Jared sitting by the window, a small dumbbell in his right hand. It was light, barely any strain to lift, but even so Jared seemed tired from the exercise. He looked out at the small garden and suburb outside. The setting sun reflected of the shingles with a weirdly dark light.

Jackson stood in the doorway, his face clean shaven and wearing a black business suit with a few small scuffs around the elbows. He fixed his green eyes upon his teenage son. Jared ignored him, as he always did.

"So, you went to the test today?" Jackson asked.

Jared did not respond. Jackson did not react. They both stood and sat, refusing to communicate. Eventually Jackson gave in.

"It went badly, didn't it?" He realised emotionlessly.

Again, Jared did not respond.

They were both quiet once more. Jared did not need to see his father's face, but he knew that he was disappointed. He was always disappointed. He continued to lift the small, light dumbbell, avoiding his father's gaze.

"I told you this would happen." Jackson said finally, providing no comfort for Jared with his words. "You're not cut out that sort of lifestyle."

"It's what I want to do." Jared said quietly, staring at the weight gripped in his hand, and the strained muscles forming in his arm.

"It takes more than a strong body to be a good hero." Jackson chided him. "It takes cunning, resolve, and a fast reaction time. Above all that, it requires a Quirk. If you went out and faced crime as you are right now, you'd be eaten alive."

Jared continued to ignore him. His father had never had a useful word to say to him, not since he was three and still allowed to anticipate the appearance of his Quirk.

"I would rather you forget this fantasy of being a hero. You should aim for a more realistic goal, like becoming a businessman like your friend Finlay." Jackson continued, folding his arms and giving his son a stubborn glare. "Trust me, it's for the best."

Jared let the dumbbell slip from his fingers. It struck the floor with a heavy thud, which shook the comics on the bookcase. He stood up, grabbed his blue hoodie from back of his desk chair and headed for the door.

"I'm going out." He said emotionlessly.

"Where?" His father asked, no actual concern in his voice.

"Somewhere." Jared said, pushing past him. As he hurried down the stairs to the bottom floor he heard his father call after him.

"Be back by nine." He said. And then he was gone, walking away down the hallway towards his own bedroom.

Jared reached the front door, and began sliding his shoes on, when he noticed Alexis standing in the living room doorway. He glanced at her. She looked back apologetically.

"Sorry about earlier." She muttered, head held low. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know." Said Jared.

"It's just..." Alexis continued. "...It's very difficult seeing my older brother constantly getting upset about the same things, over and over again. I want to help you... but I don't know how to."

Jared looked away, feeling guilty.

"Do you remember mum much?" He asked suddenly.

His sister looked surprised. "Mum?" She asked. "No, not really. I was only five when she died. I don't have that many memories."

Jared gave her a truly solemn look.

"Me neither." He admitted. "I barely remember her voice, or what she looked like."

"You don't have to be alone, Jay" Alexis told him, as she stepped forwards and hugged her brother around the shoulders. "Dad does want to help you, but like me he doesn't know how."

"You're lucky." Jared said quietly, breaking away from her embrace. "He doesn't expect as much from you."

"He doesn't expect that much from you either." Alexis tried to reassure him. "Dad's not very good at saying it, but he wants you to be happy."

"Funny..." Jared whispered sadly. "...because I don't get that impression.

He stood up, shoes now on his feet, hoodie up over his head and zipped to his neck, and with his hands in his pockets he steps out the front door.

* * *

He walked down the suburban streets, the lights of small stone houses glaring through half-closed curtains. He wasn't sure where he would go. All he knew was that he needed the space, to get away from his family and his life of failure and dissatisfaction. He could barely look his father in the eyes without seeing his disdain, his regret. He wished his mother was still alive. She was the only person who understood Jared's struggle. Sadly there were no documented Quirks capable of raising the dead.

He walked for a while, watching the cars pass him by as he strolled, hands in his pocket and cold air rushing though his hoodie. The days were getting hotter, though not quite hot enough for him to abandon his hoodie and walk around wearing shorts. At least the nights were still cold, so he didn't feel like he was walking around in a sauna all day. A bus rolled loudly past, the staring eyes of tired travellers peering out at him through wide glass windows. Jared remembered the last time he tried to catch a bus. Even after handing the driver his card, and offering to pay extra for the ride, he had still been denied a ride. Not all Quirks were visible on a person's body, so everyone in England was expected to carry a card detailing their Quirk to prove its existence. In the case of people like Jared, the cards merely stated what they were... Quirkless.

Jared walked all the way to the park, the same one he had passed earlier that day. The sky was a bright orange, and the remnants of the sun barely hung over the horizon of buildings. Jared breathed in the colder, pollen filled air of the park. It was refreshing, relaxing. His mind was able to find a small fragment of piece here, away from his judgmental father and the cruel society he lived in. He walked across the field of freshly cut grass for a while, his mind wandering absently.

While the solitude of the park allowed him reprieve from his father's judging gaze, it could not hide him from the disappointment that Jared had within himself. He had tried so hard today, harden than ever, just to make an impression. And he had failed, as he always did. It seemed that the world at large was unwilling to give him even a hint of a chance. All he wanted was to break the mould, to escape the prejudices of society that had always held him back. But he couldn't even finish a simple physical exam. Without a Quirk he truly felt like nothing.

He wandered across to the area of tall grass growing near the edge of the field. The reeds swayed hypnotically in the cold wind. A small cluster of litter lay at its edge, the remnants of somebody's picnic. Jared kicked an empty can, sending it spiralling into the tall grass.

"Sod this place." He muttered to himself, his foot striking a second can and sending that spinning into the reeds as well. "I'll make a name for myself. I don't care what they think. I'll be somebody!"

There was a clatter of metal, as the second can landed further into the patch of tall grass. Then there was another sound.

"Ouch!"

Jared paused. He looked at the tall grass. Had someone been hiding within the reeds, and he had not noticed them? He peered through the shadowed grass, but couldn't see anything past the waving sea of green.

After waiting for a few seconds Jared saw no signs of another person, and heard no sounds to suggest anybody further in. He must have been hearing things. Maybe it was just some bird or rabbit he had startled. He turned to walk away, but stopped again.

Faintly he heard the sound of metal creaking and snapping. He turned back. Deep within the grass he observed a small cluster of reeds quivering and moving. So something _was_ within the grass. But then he wondered; what was causing the sound of snapping metal?

"Hello?" Jared called out. No response. The snapping sound stopped. The movement within the depths of the grass halted, as if whatever was causing them to move had been alerted and was now trying to stay still.

His curiosity unanswered, Jared knelt down into a crouch, and snuck into the tall grass, wondering what was hiding within. He had nothing else to do, and wanting to keep his distance from his family for a while longer, he decided to explore the dark reeds and find the source of the sound and movement. As he crawled through the grass, reeds slapping his body and face like whips, he could hear the sounds of movement getting closer. These sounds were not of something walking or crawling, but of something moving other objects around between the reeds. Again his curiosity grew, and finally he reached the depths of the tall grass, where the sound was coming from.

He pushed the reeds before him aside, and peered in on a small clearing within the grass. The floor was made of flattened-down grass that bad been crushed underfoot, and around it the reeds folded inwards to form a green roof.

Within the clearing was a girl, about his age, her back to him, with dark brown hair that ran down to her lower spine and a floral summer dress with a long skirt covered her small body. In her hands was the can Jared had kicked, and what looked to be a small touchscreen phone, currently in several pieces. She was peeling the metal away from the can, which had been crushed by a small shoe standing on it, and laying the pieces out in a pile beside her.

Jared watched for a few seconds, perplexed. He leaned forwards, the reeds around him scraped his hoodie, and the girl froze.

She turned around, and saw Jared watching her. Her orange eyes locked with his, and they stared at one another, as still as statues.


	3. Chapter 2 - The Genius Girl

**Maisie Collard**

* * *

She scolded herself. Yet again she had done exactly what she was told not to do, and again her parents were angry about it. But it was something she couldn't help. She had seen it sitting there, glistening and buzzing and flashing with vibrant colours. A brand new Model VI Obsidian Mobile Phone, with a shimmering black case and thick crystal screen. The moment she had sighted it, she knew she had to have it. With her mother's wallet in hand she had payed the £599.99 and taken the device home in a small paper bag.

It didn't take long for her parents to figure out what she'd done, or notice the gaping hole she'd left in their bank account. The shouting they had given her, the furious glares that followed. Maisie had never been struck by her parents, yet sometimes she wondered how close they had come to lashing out at her. She knew she pushed them to their limits way too often. She tried not to, they knew she did. But it was something instinctual to her, like a metal bee pulled towards a magnetic flower. She could hear the buzzing electricity, the humming of the battery and the slosh of the powerful acid within. She had to have it. The many things she could do with the contents inside. The gadgets she could make from it.

She took a thin screwdriver from her small bag and began to push the edges of the phone case open with force. She was not especially strong, but neither was the case especially thick. Around her the tall grass reeds waived as a cold evening wind blew through the patch. The tips wilted over, forming a low green roof over her head.

When Maisie was in trouble, and needed some time away from her furious parents or loud world she inhabited, she would walk to the local park and take shelter within the thick swaying blades. There were often other people around, but few of them ever came near the tall grass. Sometimes small children would play hide and seek here, but usually she was alone, and she preferred it that way. The world outside was too loud, too bright, to crowded for her. Sometimes she needed to get away. It helped to avoid the meltdowns.

As the tiny yet sturdy screws began to give way, the metal casing creaked and bent slightly. Finally the screws came free, and were slid out from their holes by Maisie's small, precise fingers. With the interior of the phone now on full display, Maisie peered in gleefully, licking her lips. All those wires and little green chips. It was the battery she wanted most of all. The thin, rectangular black shape lay at the left edge of the devise, with a charging port connected to it. Using the screwdriver's flat tip to carefully lift the battery loose, she plucked it free from the opened phone case and held it between thumb and forefinger.

"Gotcha!" She muttered with pride. Her orange irises widened at the sight of it.

She had a plan forming in her mind. Images swirled and flooded and spiralled and danced through the right side of her brain. The many detailed blueprints for the many fantastic gadgets she could make from this single electronic device. She saw each and every gadget as a diagram in her mind, a detailed picture of an item that could soon exist. There was so much to work with, and all for the low price of six-hundred British pounds!

As these ideas swamped her mind and brought her into a sweating excitement, she was suddenly struck in the back of the head by something hard, metallic and cold.

"Ouch!" She exclaimed, snapping sharply out of her passionate thoughts. A small sensation of thudding pain began to beat at the back of her skull like a second heart.

She turned around, only to find an opened, empty tin can rolling around on the grass by her backside. She looked at it, orange eyes focusing upon its spherical silver shape. Instead of feeling annoyed that a can had hit her in the back of the head, or curious as to where it had come from, she instead felt her excited imagination returning. As she stared at the can she saw a hundred new avenues upon which her little 'project' could grow.

Snatching the can up in an eager hand, she placed it under her foot and squashed it till it was flat and cracked. Then, taking her screwdriver in her other hand and placing her phone and its battery upon her lap, she began breaking off lines of metal from the silver cylinder. She peeled it away like the exterior of a banana, though she knew there was no soft fruit beneath. To her, the hard metal shell _was_ the fruit.

"Hello?"

The sudden sound made her freeze. Someone was nearby. Had they heard her exclamation of pain moments before? She didn't look around, instead keeping her ears open while her eyes remained fixated on the flattened can. She didn't want to respond. Whoever it was would probably move on in a few seconds. She didn't want to start any unnecessary interactions if she didn't need to.

With half her attention focused on the grass around her, she went back to peeling metal strips from the can, placing them in a pile of scraps by her right thigh. She continued to do this for several seconds, almost forgetting all about the thudding at the back of her head and the shout she had just heard. Her mind was solely interested in the possibilities she could make with a phone battery and a few scraps of metal.

So when she heard the grass behind her moving, and the sound of reeds scraping clothing followed, she was quite startled. She turned around, and found herself looking into the emerald green eyes of a boy. He was about her age, with a fringe of black hair falling across his forehead down to his brow, and a worn blue hoodie wrapped tightly around his torso.

He looked at her. She looked at him. The both of them were quite surprised to see the other. They looked at each other, awkwardly sitting within the grass, frozen as if time had stopped. Then the boy spoke.

"Hi." He said, blinking with surprise.

Maisie blinked back at him. "Hi." She repeated, just as surprised as he.

They continued to stare at each other, the movement of time transitioning at a snail's pace. From the expression on his face, the boy obviously had a bunch of questions bubbling up into his mind. Maisie didn't really have any questions of her own. She knew that such things were expected to form the basis of human communication, yet she never felt a desire to ask. So she sat quietly, waiting for the boy to speak instead.

"Uh..." said the boy, sounding nervous and unsure what to say. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there."

Maisie blinked again. The boy continued to stare, expecting a response. When he didn't get one he looked rather perturbed. That was when his eyes turned to the can in her hand, and his eyes narrowed with embarrassment.

"I didn't hit you, did I?" He asked.

Maisie thought about the thudding pain at the back of her head. She put this piece of information together like a simple puzzle.

"No." She said, thoroughly aware that he had kicked it into her, but not wanting to make it into a problem. "I found it."

The boy sighed with relief. He gave her an awkward side smile, and looked away. A few seconds later he looked back, curious.

"I don't mean to intrude, but what are you doing hiding out here in the grass?" He asked.

Maisie gave him an uncertain look. She wasn't quite sure why she needed a reason, yet since she'd been asked she would give him an answer.

"This is my alone place." She told him, honestly and forwardly. "I come here when I need space... away from other people."

The boy seemed to empathise with this.

"I could do with one of those." He said quietly to himself.

Maisie was quiet for a moment, before she asked "Why are you out here?" She found it curious that a boy of similar age would come to the same place as her, and then wonder why she was within the grass without giving his own reasoning for the same action.

"Well…" Said the boy, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. "I wanted to go for a walk. It's a nice night, not too hot, and the sunset is beautiful."

Maisie inspected him. She saw his arms shaking gently, his eyes shifting nervously, unable to focus on anything for longer than a second. He seemed hurt, not physically but emotional, as if he was fighting a war within his own brain. Though she lacked a proper understanding of social interaction, she could spot this internal struggle quite easily.

"Are you running away?" She asked.

The boy looked at her, shocked. He blinked, surprised by her conclusion.

"No." He said quickly.

Maisie raised her brow thoughtfully. The wrinkles forming around his eyes and cheeks gave him away.

"That's a lie, isn't it?" She realised. She hadn't meant to sound so heartless. Sometimes her comments just came out this way; blunt and emotionless. The expression that the boy was giving her made her realise how unkind her words had been.

"I wasn't running away..." the boy insisted, though he didn't look like he believed the words he was saying. "I just... I needed some space away from my family."

Maisie could relate to that all too well. It made her think of how often she had wanted some company in these moments. Just having one person around who understood her struggle, who could sympathise with her need to escape.

"Would you like to come sit with me?" She asked.

The boy looked at her. Evidently he had not expected her offer. After a moment of thought, he nodded his head.

"Okay."

He crawled into the small grassy space, his hair and hood scraping the curving reed roof. Maisie moved aside, allowing him some space to sit down. The pile of scrap metal slid apart as her bare leg budged it. With the boy making himself comfortable in her alone place, Maisie focused again on her little project. She began stripping more lines of metal from the remnants of the can, while the boy watched her do so.

"What are you doing?" He asked after a while.

Maisie didn't take her eyes of the shining silver can, her fingers pinching the edge of a new strip. "Collecting resources." She told him simply. From the corner of her eye she could see he boy's confused expression.

"Why?"

"So I can use it." She continued, as if it all made perfect sense. Evidently the boy did not agree, as he visibly could not understand what she was saying. His eyes looked to the battery on her lap, and the remnants of the phone which lay at her feet.

"Is that what you did with your phone?" He asked.

"I only needed the battery." Maisie explained. "The rest is useless to me."

"That's a massive waste of a phone. Couldn't you just buy a battery off the internet?"

"I don't know how to work that sort of stuff."

The can was almost completely pulled apart, only the metal circular base was left. Maisie inspected it, wondering what she could do to utilize it. Her fingers were grubby and slightly scratched, yet she seemed unaware of the minute injuries she had obtained. She bent the metal in her fingers, inspecting the way it curved with curious and keen eyes.

"You don't have a blowtorch on you, do you?" She asked, turning to her male company.

The boy looked at her with shocked.

"No." He said, sounding stunned by the suggestion that he looked like someone who would carry such an item.

"What about Metal Bonding Adhesive Glue?" She asked further.

"I'm not a mechanic. I don't have anything like that." The boy told her with a slightly panicked directness.

Maisie shrugged. "Well, it was worth asking." She looked at the strips of metal she had been collecting, which had once been a simple tin can. "I'll have to do without."

"What are you trying to make, anyway?" The boy asked, rather startled by her requests.

"Many things." Said Maisie. "A moment ago there were twenty possibilities, but now I fear there are only six." She sighed with disappointment. "Oh well, six is still plenty of choice."

She began picking up the fallen strips of metal, and slowly, delicately placing them together in a line to examine them. Each was a slightly different length and shape, curved and twisted to the shape of the can they had come from. Maisie's fingers had attempted to straighten them out, but they still retained a slightly curved shape.

The boy, who sat quietly for a while at the corner of the clearing, his back to the tall grass, was growing fidgety. He picked at the ground with anxious fingers. Something was obviously on his mind, but Maisie didn't know how to help him, or if she even should. Eventually he chose to speak up by himself.

"My father and I don't get along." The boy said quietly.

Maisie didn't look away from her work, but she split half her focus upon what he was saying. She lifter her head very slightly to show she had heard him.

The boy continued. "He doesn't have any hope in me. He thinks I'll never be able to achieve anything. He's a really famous hero, and I've wanted to be just like him all my life… but I can't be."

"Why not?" Maisie asked, comparing two similar strips of metal with a calculating frown.

The boy took a deep inhale of cold dusk air, and paused to think. He shrunk into his hoodie, letting his face disappear under its shadow. When he spoke, he did so with a solemn, miserable tone.

"Because I don't have a Quirk."

Maisie paused. Only now did she looked at him, choosing to put aside her project for a moment. She examined this boy, a stranger who had wandered into her alone place at such a late hour. He didn't look extra-ordinary. He didn't have any unusual features; no strange eyes, mutated limbs, vibrant skin pigments, weird hair or extra body parts. He wasn't especially tall or muscular, small or fat. He looked like a completely average teenage boy. Yet not all Quirks showed up physically, Maisie knew that. Some Quirks are subtle, and only appear when activated. But if this boy said that he did not have a Quirk, then Maisie knew that he was probably right to believe so.

"I couldn't tell." She told him, her voice no different than before. She felt embarrassed by that. She had wanted to sound sympathetic, but that was always a struggle for her. The boy didn't seem too bothered by it. He wasn't angered or upset by her lack of a sympathetic voice. He seemed more confused than anything.

"Really?" He asked, not quite sure if he believed her. "I always thought it was obvious. Most people I meet can tell from a glance."

"Not everyone with a Quirk looks different." She told him.

"I know that." He remarked. "The rest of my family all have a Quirk, yet they look as normal as I do. Even the maid, Petra, and her Quirk elongates her arms. But that's not the case with me. I'm just average. I have nothing."

Maisie looked at him longer. The more she stared the more she saw the emotion building up inside of him that he was desperately trying to hold in. It seemed that he had built a flood wall to hold back his downpour of sadness, but now that defence was breaking. He shrunk further into his hoodie and wrapped his arms around his body, shivering a little, possibly with cold, nerves or sorrow.

"Is it possible you've never noticed your Quirk? I hear that happens sometimes." Maisie suggested, trying to sound positive.

The boy suddenly reached a hand into his trouser pocket, and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, and thrust it into Maisie's face. She backed up, slightly startled by the aggressive movement. Inside a small clear plastic sleeve was a white card. On the card was a photograph of the boy's face, and underneath was his name, age and a single word.

 _'Jared Wreath'_

 _'Sixteen'_

 _'Quirkless'_

"That is my Quirkless card." The boy explained. "I was given it when I was five. I went for an examination at the hospital after almost a year of not developing a Quirk. The doctor examined me, and he said, without hesitation or doubt, that I had no Quirk." The boy lowered his head, his eyes growing slightly moist. "He didn't even need to do a blood test or X-ray, or anything that complicated. He simply examined my foot. I have an extra joint in my small toe, and because of that it's almost guaranteed that I will never develop a Quirk." He shook his head with anger and repressed pain. "Isn't that stupid! One tiny biological difference and suddenly I'm not as valuable as other people!"

Maisie wasn't sure how to react to all of this. She felt sorry for him, but she didn't know how to express it, or even if she should. She looked at the card, and with the same unfazed tone she said… "Your name is Jared?"

The boy looked at his wallet, and pulled it away from her, shoving it back into his pocket.

"I don't know why I bothered to tell you all of that." He muttered coldly. "I don't even know you."

"My name is Maisie." She said, looking at him still. The boy, Jared, looked back.

"Nice to meet you." He responded quietly, hoarsely.

Maisie turned back to her project, and took up the battery and screwdriver once more. She began comparing the size of the battery to the length of the metal strips, and seemed pleased by how well the thin black rectangle fitted within them.

"I wanted to get away from my family as well." She said after a few more seconds had passed.

Jared looked curiously at her. "Why? Don't you have a Quirk?"

"I do." Maisie said. "That's actually the cause of my problems."

Jared seemed stumped by her remark. "How can that be? How can a Quirk cause you problems?"

This time Maisie was shocked by _his_ remarks. She blinked at him, wondering how he couldn't think it through.

"Some Quirks have their drawbacks. They can make living a normal life more difficult."

She paused, unsure if she should detail her struggle to a stranger, but since he had unearthed his problems to her, she felt it was only fair to show the same respect back.

"I call my Quirk Crafter's Eye." She explained. "It's a bit tricky to explain. Whenever I look at something, I see all of the possible technological uses it can have. My mind creates a blueprint of each and every gadget I can make out of that material, and any other possibilities which will require one or two extra pieces."

"But that sounds amazing!" Jared exclaimed, looking genuinely impressed by what she was describing. "A Quirk like that would make you a genius! How is that a bad thing?"

"I didn't expect you to understand." She muttered with disappointment. "The problem comes with the type of materials I need. Remember how I asked you for a blowtorch earlier?"

Jared looked at her, not sure what her point was. "Was that relevant?"

"That's something I do because of my Quirk. I get these... well, these urges... I feel a desperate need to obtain any material which will allow me to make my gadgets. Once I know I need it, I have to have it! I can't stop myself. I've tried, but the urge is always too strong."

She paused to see the boy's expression growing slightly more understanding. The difficulty of her situation was starting to sink in for him.

"I bought this phone today because of my urges." She continued, her fingers fiddling with the battery. "I spent my parent's money to obtain it... It cost six-hundred pounds."

That last part made Jared's mouth fall open.

"They weren't happy about it. Whenever I do something like this they always shout at me for it. But today, it was much worse." She lowered her head, starting to feel truly guilty about what she had done. Discussing it with a stranger had made her realise why this was bad. Before it hadn't quite struck home. "My family doesn't have much money. I always end up wasting it for them, and we care barely eat for the month because of it."

Jared looked at her, eyes wide and mouth open. He seemed surprised by her situation. In fact, he seemed apologetic."

"Sorry. I didn't know." He said quietly. "That must be really tough."

"Yeah." Maisie muttered, her attention returning to her project, only now she was saddened by the subject they were discussing. Her enthusiasm for the project had waned, and she fiddled with the pieces slowly and carelessly.

"But even if that's the case, can't you just sell the gadgets you make?" Jared asked her. "Some of them might not make much, but if you made something brand new and useful I'm sure there are people who would pay a lot for it."

"I'm not good with money." Maisie told him. "And that business stuff goes straight over my head. I don't know what a good deal looks like. Honestly, I prefer to keep my projects. They're mine after all. Why should I give them to anyone else?"

They both fell quiet for a while, saddened by their discussion and unsure what else could be said. Maisie looked at the remnants of can and phone which she had collected. Now that her excitement for the project had faded, they seemed like nothing more than empty husks. She couldn't think of anything to do with them. Whenever she felt sad this happened. Her Quirk seemed to retreat when her mind was in a very negative space.

"What were you trying to make?" Jared asked her after some time had passed.

Maisie looked at the pieces of her project, some lying on her lap, others scattered about on the grass. "I was trying to make a stun gun." She told him.

Jared blinked, shocked. "Why?" He asked.

"It was something my mother brought up. She said that, because I'm sixteen now, there are people out there who might want to hurt me. She suggested buying something for me to protect myself with. So, when I saw this phone in the store, I saw a way I could make my own protection."

"Couldn't you just buy yourself a stun gun?" Jared asked.

"I keep telling you, I'm no good with that money stuff." She chuckled. "I didn't even realise how much the phone would cost till the man at the counter told me, and even after that I didn't think twice. Trust me, it's easier for me to do it this way."

Jared looked at her, then at her project, then back at her. As his eyes shifted from piece to person, his expression suddenly grew hopeful, thoughtful, even slightly excited.

"Could you make gadgets for other people?" He asked.

Maisie looked back at him. "I could. Why?"

"I've just thought of a way that I could enter the Initiation Exam." He muttered quietly.

Maisie looked at him. "What?" She said, unsure what he was talking about.

"Ravenhead's Initiation Exam." Jared explained. "The one to join his Hero Training Course."

Maisie nodded in realisation. She had indeed heard of it, but originally she had shown it no interest. She wasn't capable of being a hero. She learned that long ago.

"I've wanted to be a hero, just like my father, for all of my life." Jared explained. "But, because I don't have a Quirk, no one has ever thought I could do it. I've never been taken seriously, and I've never been able to stand out." He looked sharply at her, and at the gadget she was constructing. "With your help I might be able to change that."

Maisie blinked nervously. "What sort of help?" She asked him with a growing confusion.

Jared leaned a little closer. He was excited, eager. This was scaring Maisie a little. He didn't seemed much like the boy who had wandered into her alone place anymore.

"I know this might be asking a lot, but could you make a stun gun for me?" He asked her.

Maisie blinked. "Why do you want a stun gun?"

"I need a way to fight bad guys." Jared explained. "Most heroes can just use their Quirks, but since I don't have one I'll have to improvise. A stun gun would fit the bill pretty well." He sat back, giving Maisie space, his thrilled expression not fading at all. "So, will you help me?" He asked.

Maisie looked back at him. Slowly, she gave him a big, glistening smile.

"Sure." She said, without a second's hesitation.

Jared seemed slightly taken aback. "That was quick." He said. "I didn't expect you to say yes so quickly."

"You aren't the only person sat here who once dreamed of being a hero." She told him. "When I was very young I had a similar dream. I wanted to make all kinds of gadgets to take down criminals. That dream died a while ago… but if I work with you, then maybe I can resurrect it. Maybe we can both become heroes… together."

That suggestion made Jared feel both excited and uncomfortable. The ambivalent sensation it brought him left him speechless for a few seconds.

"You mean, work as a team?" Jared asked, after finally regaining sensation in his jaw and tongue.

"It's not unheard of." Maisie told him. "Some heroes work together permanently."

"I know that." Jared said. "Though usually those heroes are married."

Maisie chuckled awkwardly. "Well, we don't have to go quite that far. I think working together would be a great idea. I'm not really a fighter, and you don't have a Quirk. We can both offer something to the other. You can deal with the criminals, and in turn I can make the gadgets for you to use. It can be a mutually supportive hero relationship! What do you think? Are you up for it?"

Jared's excitement was growing by the second. While Maisie could not read his mind, it was evident by his expression that plans were forming in his head. She recognised that excitement. It was the same feeling she had when she looked at material and saw the gadgets she could make from it.

"I'm in!" He exclaimed a few seconds later. "I'll do it!"

Maisie smiled joyfully back at him. She stretched out a hand, and Jared shook it vigorously. His hand was sweaty, clammy and clingy, but Maisie didn't mind. She was too preoccupied with thoughts of all the gadgets she could make for him.

"When is the deadline for this Initiation Exam?" She asked.

"It ends on the last day of July. We have most of the month left to plan and prepare." Jared said. "I suggest we both knuckle down and get ready for it."

"I'll set about making gadgets for you." Maisie told him. "I'll let you know once they're done, and you can test them out."

"I'll need your phone number or email, else I can't get in touch." Jared said.

"I don't really have an email, but I have a phone number." She paused and pulled from her bag a small notepad. She flicked it open to a page of phone numbers, and pointed her finger at the one at the very top. "That's my home number. If you need to speak to me, call my by that one."

Jared looked at it, and in a second he had his own phone it his hands.

"I'll add it now." He told her. "You said your name was Maisie, yes?"

"Maisie Collard." Maisie told him. " _I-E_ at the end of Maisie, double _L_ in Collard."

Jared tapped in the number onto his phone, and saved it under her name. "I'll give you my own number as well." He told her. He read aloud the digits of his phone number, and with a thin, almost dry ink pen, Maisie scrawled it to the bottom of the list, along with the boy's full name.

"Jared Wreath."

She paused.

"Hang on. Are you related to Progenitor Wreath?" She asked.

Jared nodded slowly, awkwardly. "He's my father."

Maisie's eyes widened.

"Is that a problem?" Jared asked.

"No." Maisie said quickly. "Not at all. That's actually rather exciting. I'm working with the number one hero's son!"

"I'm nothing like him." Jared told her sharply, awkwardly.

Once the two of them were done exchanging names and numbers, they both stood up, their heads pushing through the grass roof and looking out into the open air. The sun had fallen further in the sky. The orange light that once shrouded the horizon had now turned purple. The air was growing colder, and the wind was picking up.

Neither of the teenagers seemed to mind this, however. The both of them were too excited by the plans they had just put together.

"I'll be in touch with you tomorrow." Maisie said, as Jared walked away.

"I'll be waiting to hear from you." Jared called back.

As he left, Maisie felt a wave of excited relief wash over her. She had never felt this sensation before. It was a feeling of hope, of purpose. For the first time in a long time, she felt that she was doing something worthwhile.


	4. Chapter 3 - The Sympathetic Teacher

**Yorke Victorsson**

* * *

Ravenhead looked at the letter once more, making sure he had not misread any of the words. This was most certainly a curious case indeed. He had never seen a request such at this before. He had certainly not been expecting one at this time, or for it to be sent to him personally. He held the crumbled piece of paper carefully in his sharp fingers. In the dark candlelight of his personal study the hand-written ink words wobbled and twisted on the page. His feathered arms casted long, looming shadows against the walls of the small cabin, making it difficult for his glassy eyes to make out the letters.

 _'Dear Yorke Victorsson "Ravenhead"_

 _My name is Jared Wreath. I am a sixteen year old Quirkless boy from Galafrei City. My father is a hero, like yourself._

 _I have wanted to be a hero all my life, just like you and him, yet no matter how hard I try I find myself unable to achieve this goal. After seeing your announcement of Television, I knew that your course would help me become the hero I wanted to be._

 _As said before, I have no Quirk, yet I believe that, with enough effort and determination, I can achieve as much as any other student. I do not wish for my lack of a Quirk to hold me back. If it is acceptable, I would like to sign up for your course. I am happy to undergo the entrance exam just like other students, even if my lack of a Quirk will make it difficult. I am writing to ask if this is possible. Is there room on your course for a student like myself?_

 _I am currently working with another student, whose Quirk allows her to create any gadget she desires. She has agreed to help me get through the course by making equipment for me to use in placement of a Quirk. She also wishes to join the course, though she fears she cannot enter by herself because her Quirk is not especially useful by itself. I wonder if it would be possible for the both of us to work together on your course, and to take the entrance exam as a duo. I know it is unusual, but I feel that both of us working together would make a strong team._

 _Thank you for your time. I hope you consider my request. I will be attempting the entrance exam on the 30th of July, along with my companion. I hope to see you in person then._

 _Regards._

 _Jared Wreath.'_

He blinked his glassy eyes with interest. A boy with no Quirk was asking to take the initiation exam. More curiously, he had written a letter to Ravenhead, of all people, about the matter. Ravenhead had expected one or two Quirkless people to attempt the initiation exam at some point. The lack of a Quirk was not enough to stop some people. If it had been anyone else, they would have turned down such a request without hesitation, but Ravenhead took the time to hear them out, to read what they had to say and think the subject through.

As he sat there in the low light, a knock at the door shook him out of his thoughts. He blinked, ruffling his head feathers, startled. He turned his head to the door, rotating his neck further than the average human could.

"Come in." He stated, stifling a yawn.

The door slowly swung upon. A hooved foot pushed its way in forcefully. Attached to it was a well-dressed man with long brown hair running down the back of his head. The front was almost completely absent of hair, save for a goatee beard and thick eyebrows. At the sides of his head was a pair of thick, curved ram's horns, sharp, twisted and polished. In his hairy hands was a tray, and on that a steaming mug of hot brown liquid.

"Still working?" The man asked as he entered.

"Yes, not quite ready to shut up shop yet." Yorke stretched, putting the paper down on his desk as he turned. "And you brought cocoa. How nice."

He took the mug between feathered talons, and winced as the heat singed his sensitive flesh.

"Niko cooked it up. Be careful, it's very hot." The man warned him a second too late.

"Of course he did. Give him my gratitude." With more careful claw tips, Ravenhead plucked the mug from the tray and lowered it onto the table, a few inches from the letter. "Is this all that brings you in here, Kameron?" He asked, turning back to his friend.

The horned man, Kameron, furrowed his fuzzy brow and looked at the paper on Ravenhead's table.

"Fan mail?" He asked.

"An applicate." Ravenhead corrected him. "A Quirkless boy sent me this letter. He wants to know if we're accepting Quirkless students."

"Why did he send it to you?" Kameron asked.

"Dunno. Maybe he thought I was in charge here." Ravenhead suggested.

"Well, those adverts you put out didn't really suggest otherwise." Kameron stated observantly. "You set yourself up there, Yorke."

"That was all Madam's idea." Yorke insisted. "She said it would help bring in new blood."

"You make her sound like a vampire." Kameron chuckled. Yorke also chuckled, though his avian syrinx made it sound like a light, strangled whistle.

"I don't know why you agree to such things. You seem to hate being at the front of these projects." Kameron continued.

"I don't hate being at the front of them." Yorke told him. "I hate it when people misrepresent my role in these projects. I actually quite like being the centre of attention." He sipped his cocoa, the hot liquid sloshing within the hollow casing of his black beak. "I can't understand why you don't like it. You seem to just sit back in the shadows."

"Not all of us can be you, Yorke." Kameron said, hurt by his friend's suggestions. "I prefer that people don't know my face. If they did, it would make my job much tougher."

Both Yorke Victorsson and Kameron Morse were well renowned heroes in both the United Kingdom and Europe, though the reasons for why they were so renowned were vastly different. Yorke was known as a showman; a heroic figure who stood up in front of crowds of people, put on a performance and, after defeating the villain and saving the day, would shout out 'Do not panic! All is well!' Kameron had a very different approach. He was known as a sleuth; a sly and cunning observer who worked underground to dig up criminals in hiding and bring them to the surface, all while working under the codename _Aries_. Both approaches had their benefits and drawbacks, and both heroes were very good at their ways of doing things. However, this lead to a few small clashes of opinion in the workspace, and both considered the other's methods to be less efficient.

Though while these minor tiffs happened often, they never lasted long or had a permanent effect on either hero. Kameron and Yorke had been friends for several years by this point, and after working together multiple times they had learned to appreciate what the other was capable of. If Yorke had not been one of the first people to start working on this course then Kameron may have never considered it himself.

"I suppose it would be tough to infiltrate a criminal groups if they knew what you looked like, wouldn't it." Yorke reasoned, swallowing another sip of cocoa. At first it had been difficult to adapt to his strangely shaped mouth. Liquids tended to seep out easily, and the lack of teeth made chewing impossible. Years of practice had helped him find ways to overcome these problems, and now he could drink cocoa like a champion. It required his head being held back at an angle thirty degrees further than the average human would go.

"Does Madam know about this request?" Kameron Morse asked, changing the subject back to the contents of the letter.

"Not yet, though I don't imagine she'd be interested in this." Yorke gestured at the paper with a sharp, wrinkled, black finger. His feathered arm scraped the table noisily.

"It is _her_ course that he's applying to. I imagine she'd want to at least see the request, if nothing more." Kameron argued.

Yorke sighed. "You're right. I'll tell her tomorrow morning." He scratched his feathered head with the gentle tip of a curved nail, and sighed tiredly. "What about you? Has she agreed to your unusual proposition?"

Kameron Morse narrowed his eyes surreptitiously. "It took a bit of time to get through to her, but she has agreed to find a place for the two of them on the Junior Course."

"I'm glad to hear that." Ravenhead told him. "After what you did for them, I couldn't imagine Madam would just turn them away."

"How many candidates do we have now?" Kameron requested.

"Over two thousand applicants have applied for the course, one thousand and sixty two have gone through the exam already, and of them only ten have been accepted onto the courses, excluding your two of course."

Kameron chuckled. "So Jensen's making it difficult, is he?"

Ravenhead sighed with exhaustion. "I don't doubt Peter's skill as a hero, but I wish he wasn't so picky."

"He's trying to live up to his father's expectations." Kameron reasoned.

"He turned down fifty separate candidates this morning." Yorke continued. "A few of them would have done well on this course, but he pushed them away simply because he didn't think they could make it."

"He has the right to do that." Kameron reasoned. "All of us do. _We_ choose our students." He scratched behind his horns. "Still, if you like I can offer a helping hand. I can assist with the exams if you need it."

Yorke looked at his friend, and gave him a small, grateful smile. "That would help a lot. As they say, three heads are better than two."

Kameron Morse gave a small chuckle and smiled back. He turned to leave, his hooved feet clopping loudly on the hard cabin floor. "I'll leave you to it. I need to go discuss my matters with Madam once more."

"Good luck." Yorke called back, as he heard the door swinging open. It slammed shut a second later, and again Yorke Victorsson was left in the candle-lit darkness of his portable personal cabin.

He sighed, and held his head in his hands. His beak scraped the rim of the table, leaving a long mark as the sharp tip scraped the wood. He yawned loudly, as exhaustion caught up with him. He had spent days without sleep before, fighting criminal and villain alike for hours upon end, yet paperwork had a way of draining the energy from his hollow bones that nothing else could achieve. Looking at words on a page for hours on end was like having his very soul sucked out.

He reached his hand into the draw of his desk, and pulled out a small, black feather quill and ink well. With dexterous fingers he twisted the tip of the pen around and dipped it into the ink, wiping the excess off on the side. Then, careful of his feathers, he began writing upon a new piece of paper. His eyes darted back and forth between his written words, and those of the letter sent by the Quirkless boy. The quill moved back and forth for some time, diving into the ink bowl when necessary and leaving a smudge of ink behind it. Words began to form upon the blank page, as the quill moved erratically about.

After half an hour, a well written, detailed letter had been completed, replacing the once clean page with black smudges and signs. Ravenhead sat back and looked at his work. Writing was not a talent he had, and looking at the page he wondered if the reader would understand any of it. He looked back over his words, reading aloud what he had written.

 _'Dear Jared Wreath_

 _I appreciate your situation, and the time you have taken to ask these questions of me. I fear you may be asking the wrong person, as I am merely a teacher on this course. However, I have discussed this matter with the other teachers and we have come to an agreement. We are prepared to let you study as a student on our course, even though you have no Quirk._

 _However, we must ask that you comply with several unusual standards._

 _Firstly, you will have to go through the entrance exam just like any other students. If we feel that you are not appropriate for our course we will turn you away, no matter whether you have a Quirk or not. We cannot make exceptions on this._

 _Secondly, you and your friend must both apply for this course on the same day. You will both go through the examination together, as you have suggested. However, if one of you should fail then neither of you will be allowed to pass the exam. We are happy to allow the both of you to work together on our course, but if we feel that one of you is not appropriate for our course then the both of you will be turned away._

 _Thirdly, while we respect your lack of a Quirk, we cannot make any exceptions to your study as a student. You will go through the same lessons as all other students, and you will be expected to reach the same standard. If you cannot reach our standards, you will be dropped from the course. Please remember that this course if for training heroes, and if we feel you cannot make it as a hero we will no longer train you._

 _I apologise that this may seem harsh, but understand that the safety of our students must come first, and if we fear a student cannot handle the scenarios a hero must face we will have them leave the course. With that said, we look forward to seeing you during the entrance exam._

 _We will be expecting you on the 30th of July, as you suggested in your letter. I wish you luck, and likewise look forward to seeing you on our course._

 _Kind Regards_

 _Yorke 'Ravenhead' Victorsson'_

And to finish the letter of, Yorke signed the envelope with a wax raven, his own symbol, as proof that he had written it.


	5. Chapter 4 - A Month of Preparations

**Jared Wreath**

* * *

The month of waiting flew by like a pebble caught on an autumn wind. In some places it moved quickly, but in others it got caught on the harsh ground or the wind wasn't strong enough to move it, and sometimes it ended up going in the completely opposite direction... at least, this is how Jared felt the month went.

Since he'd met Maisie in the tall grass that fateful night, the two of them had been communicating continuously, plotting and preparing for their big exam. The holidays had not come just yet, so Jared was still expected to attend school, but by the sixteenth he had packed up his pencil case and said goodbye to the old establishment. The exam period in school was over, and he would be moving up into the prefect year... that was unless he passed the entrance exam. If he did that, he would instead be studying to become a hero.

Maisie had called him the very next day, at some time past eight o'clock in the morning. Jared hadn't been too happy to be awoken so early. She had gotten straight to work crafting the gadgets they had been discussing the night before, and had spent the whole night sleeplessly crafting them. They had met at the same park the next morning. By then she had unkempt hair and bags under the eyes, yet she seemed as full of energy and life as a Jack Russell Terrier. Jared had barely a second to breathe before she was shoving her gadgets upon him.

From her bag, Maisie pulled out a small rectangular device, made from the can metal and pieces of tyre rubber, with strips of sticky tape keeping the shape together. She presented it to him with the pride and manner of a cat handing over a dead mouse to its owner.

Jared took the fragile, homemade object in hand and inspected it.

"It's rather small. He said. "You made this in just the one night?"

"When I'm in the mood, it's really not so tough." Maisie explained.

"Does it work?" Jared asked.

"I was careful with the wiring, so it should work fine." Maisie told him. "You'll have to jab the prongs into your target to zap them properly. That will require getting up close to your target" She pointed a finger to the small pointed barbs at the front of the device, being careful not to touch them by accident.

"Yeah, I'd figured that part out." He tested its reach and wielding speed, thrusted his arm at the open air before him while Maisie stood safely to the side. The weapon was barely the length of his middle finger, and the prongs themselves were small, fat and blunt.

"Is there any way you could make it fire the teeth out?" Jared asked. "So I don't have to get so close to use it."

Maisie hummed in thought, her orange eyes aglow with inspiration. "I would need a bit more time. Maybe with a couple of springs, some copper wiring and adhesive I could..."

Jared pressed down the small red button on the side of the stun gun. The gadget hummed loudly, and a cascade of sparks exploded from the prongs. Startled, Jared jumped, and the stun gun flew out of his hand, landed on the soft grass, bounced a few times... and then split in half.

He and Maisie looked at the sparking segments of device. The sticky tape that had been used to hold it together was bubbling and melting, sliding down the rubber exterior as a clear sludge.

"I thought you said it was working fine." Jared asked, terrified by the boiling, sparking thing.

"It was. It worked fine earlier. I guess the tape wasn't resistant to the heat." As the weapon stopped sparking, Maisie began to collect up the pieces of gun, careful not to place her fingers on the melted plastic. "I had to make do with what was available. If I'd had a blowtorch I could've melded the pieces together properly."

Jared looked at her, and took note of how small and skinny she was, and how her flowery summer dress was stained with grime around the skirt.

"Do you know how to use a blowtorch?" He asked her seriously.

"It can't be too hard to figure out." Maisie told him emotionlessly, as she gathered the last of the pieces back into the strap bag around her waist.

"Do you even know what a blowtorch is?" Jared inquired.

"You use it to melt pieces of metal together." Maisie said, shoving the last fragments into her bag.

"That's a welder." Jared told her.

"You can use blowtorches for that, too." Maisie corrected him. "Either one would work fine."

"I don't think we should be applying dangerous tools to our projects." Jared reasoned. "We don't need to cook ourselves before the exam."

Maisie patted her bag comfortingly, and turned back to Jared with a hopeful smile rising on her lips.

"I'll try and think of another way to make this work." She explained. "I'll call you once it's done."

"While you're at it, could you fix it so it works at range as well?" Jared interrupted.

Maisie puffed up her cheeks in thought. "I can try, but that may take a while to organise." She gave a small nod. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

For the rest of week Jared heard nothing from Maisie. With little else to do but wait for her to call, he spent some time in his father's personal gym, which had been converted from one of the house's two garages. Usually he was not allowed inside, though after carefully persuading Petra to lend him the key he had managed to sneak in for several hours while his father was out working. Though in order to gain access to the room he had been forced to explain his reason to the made. She didn't seem especially concerned by his venture into the hero world, yet she agreed to stay quiet about the matter towards his father. The last thing Jared needed at this point was his old man harassing him about his escapades.

For several hours every day he would visit the gym, to train and strengthen his muscles, ready for whatever the exam would require of him, and hopefully to improve his fitness just a little. He had never before had such an urge to improve his body, as the thought of failure had always been lingering at the back of his mind. But now that he had a plan, and someone who would work with him, he felt more motivated than ever to keep trying. There was only one major drawback to using his father's gym so regularly. By the end of the week, every muscle in Jared's body was screaming. He had aches and pains all over, and every movement he made was stiff and slow.

It was Saturday morning when finally he received a call from Maisie. It happened at six in the morning. Jared almost slept through it.

"Hello..." Jared tried to ask as he answered the call.

 _"I can't make it work!"_ Maisie's voice sharply interrupted.

Jared recoiled as her shouts filled his eardrum.

"What?" He asked tiredly.

 _"It's not working! I can't make it work, Jared!"_ Maisie repeated, still shouting. She sounded distressed, which Jared hadn't been expecting. His annoyance was quickly replaced by concern.

"I don't understand. What do you mean, you can't make it work?"

 _"I don't have the right material!"_ Maisie insisted, a strange tone of panic in her voice. _"I need a blowtorch, or else I can't keep the pieces together!"_

Jared sighed with resignation. "Alright." He muttered, holding in a yawn. "Listen, my dad has a lot of money. I'll see if I can sort something out."

 _"Thank you, Jared!"_ Maisie cheered through the receiver. _"I would buy one myself, but my dad said they cost around five-hundred pounds, and he doesn't want me spending their money again!"_

"That's okay." Jared told her reassuringly. "I'll come bring it to you once I have one."

 _"Meet me at my house! I'll be waiting on the front!"_ Maisie said quickly.

Jared paused. "But I don't know where y..."

Before he could finish, Maisie hung up. Jared looked at the receiver, and shook his head. He was too tired to deal with this girl's strange behaviours. He rolled over, slid the covers over his head, and went back to sleep.

* * *

After spending a few more hours in his comfortable bed, Jared finally left in search of Maisie's house and a blowtorch. By then his father had already left for work, and his siblings were still asleep. The only other person awake was Petra, though she was busy hoovering the third floor landing and probably would not notice him leaving the house for an hour. He'd had a quick look around both garages, just in case his family had any metalwork tools lying around, but he was unable to find such an item. With no choice but to go out and buy one, he got dressed and set out into the city, his wallet in his pocket and his blue hoodie tightly clenching his chest.

His body was still aching from the workouts over the previous few days, but he had enough energy to make the walk into town. He knew that trying to catch a bus would be a futile effort, he was not old enough to drive a car and he'd never learned to ride a bike, so there was no other choice but to walk.

He eventually made it to the outer shopping district of the city, and came across a small metalwork's store. A dark silver sign hung above the place, with shimmering metal letters spelling out the words _'SCHMIDT'S FORGE'_. In the grimy window was a row of metallic figures, furniture, decorations, medals and other such objects, all presumably made within. Jared reasoned that a place such as this would also sell the equipment used to make their metalwork. As he stepped inside and had a look around, he indeed saw a shelf of various tools standing behind the counter.

It had taken Jared some time to convince the clerk to let Jared buy the item. He was evidently suspicious that a teenage boy would want such a tool, and was unwilling to let him pay for it. His opinion quickly changed after seeing the numbers within Jared's account, and gladly handed across the tool for twice its original price.

Jared left the store with a small, red coloured torch wrapped in a plastic casing. It had a short, thin snout with a widened muzzle, and attached to it was a small gas canister. Jared couldn't help but feel that he had made a very big mistake in buying it, but he wasn't going to turn back now. He clenched it tight under his hoodie, hoping that he would not be stopped by anyone on the way to find Maisie. He wasn't sure where her house was, as she hadn't given him an address or any form of hint. With not much to go on, he went to the only place he knew may help lead him to her.

He hurried back down the street, and headed for the park.

* * *

He looked through the metal fence that surrounded that small verdant patch. There was no sign of Maisie anywhere. He checked the tall grass, but she wasn't hiding in her quiet place either. There was nothing to go by in finding her, yet she expected him to know where she lived. He had no other choice but to call her up and ask.

His mobile rang for a while, and after several attempt at receiving answer, someone finally picked up at the other end.

 _"Hello?"_ Maisie said in her usual emotionless tone.

"Where do you live?" Jared asked quickly and forwardly. He had no interest in waiting around any longer. "I have the blowtorch, and I'm at the park. Where can I meet you?"

There was a several second pause, before a rustling of paper. It sounded as if Maisie was looking through her notebook. A few seconds later she spoke up again.

 _"From the park, go west. Then, when you reach the roundabout, take the third turn into Orton Street. After that, turn left at the fifth road. My house is number 143."_

Jared vigorously tried to jot the address down in his head. He etched it his brain like a stonemason carving a name onto a fresh gravestone.

"Thank you, Satnav." He said, rather more harshly than he had meant to, and ended the call.

He spent no extra time thinking or standing around, and heading in the direction Maisie had detailed, following her instructions to a tee. It took a while, but eventually he found the house she had mentioned; number 143, Orton Street.

He found Maisie standing outside, in the same dress, no different than the last time they had met. However, this time she was absent of the confident air she had once worn nonchalantly, and she now donned a nervous pose, her arms hugging her small chest.

The moment she saw him her anxious expression rose to one of joy, then quickly turned into the stare that a crack addict would give their dealer when after another hit.

She stuck out her hand, and immediately demanded at Jared, "Give it to me!"

Jared was rather taken aback by this. He pulled out the plastic wrapped blowtorch from within his hoodie and held it out for her. At the moment it left his clothing, Maisie reached out and snatched it away, her fingers powerfully gripping the edge of the wrapping. She immediately began to tear at the plastic, breaking the tight sealing material away and freeing the prize inside. Jared watched her, and couldn't help but compare her behaviour to that of a chimpanzee ravenously trying to break into a coconut shell.

When eventually she freed the blowtorch from its see-through prison, she inspected it with her keen orange eyes, before looking up at Jared and saying "It's rather small."

"That thing was being sold for five-hundred and fifty-nine pounds!" Jared stated. "The guy didn't even want to sell it to me. I had to bribe him, for almost double the price!"

"I hope it works." Maisie said to herself, as she turned away and walked towards her house, not acknowledging a word Jared had said to her. He stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds more, before following after her.

Maisie walked around the end of the building, and led Jared into a small back garden. Her home was not very big. It was a small, detached bungalow, with old stone walls and a low slate roof. At the side of the house was a tiny garage, barely big enough for just one car and a child's bicycle.

Maisie sat down at a small table on the patio, where she had already laid out what remained of the stun gun. The blowtorch sat perfectly among the pile of metal, phone pieces, rubber and sticky tape. It was like a duck sat in a chicken coop.

Immediately Maisie got to work, not caring for personal safety, examining the blowtorch closely with an orange eye. She didn't even seem to notice Jared, who stood awkwardly a few feet away from her. He was rather concerned that she was using an open flame so casually - without any protective clothing in the back garden of her house. The blowtorch expelled a wisp of blue flame as Maisie pressed in the small trigger. A second later she was shoving the tip of the torch between two pieces of metal, turning the edges a harsh red with heat.

"I don't think you should be using that without protection." Jared intervened quickly, a sudden wave of panic rushing through his brain. He shook Maisie's elbow, but she didn't notice him. Her attention was focused solely on her work.

"I know what I'm doing." She muttered quietly.

"Do you, though?" Jared asked, not convinced. Sparks began to fly from the metal, as Maisie attempted to fuse the two pieces together with her other hand. "Seriously, I think we should get some goggles at least!" Jared continued.

"You're distracting me, Jared." She said in response.

Jared blinked, not sure what to say or do. He was sure that _she_ knew what she was doing, but he couldn't help but be concerned by the fact that a teenage girl was using an industrial blowtorch to weld metal strips together. Concerned by Maisie's unsafe actions, but afraid to bother her too much, he simply stood back at a safe distance of approximately six metres and watched, as the orange-eyed young woman set to work on repairing the stun gun. Quickly there came the smell of hot metal, which caught in Jared's nose and on his tongue like a horrid aftertaste. Then there was smoke.

"Is everything okay?" Jared asked, watching from afar, as he began to see small puffs of white smoke coming off the metal. Maisie nodded in response, but said no words.

Her work continued for a while, until, after almost ten minutes of nonstop metalsmithing, she put the blowtorch down. She turned back to Jared, looking at him with sore, reddened eyes.

"I think you were right." She muttered, sniffling a little. "I'm going to fetch some goggles."

She stood up from her chair and hurried inside, leaving the pieces of stun gun and the blowtorch to stand openly on the table. Jared looked at her work. She had already fused a fourth of the fragments back together, though what had been constructed so far was absent of any recognisable shape and lacked the rubber casing as of yet. Jared had to admit that he was impressed by her work, though he was very much perturbed by her casual work environment and lacklustre understanding of safety. He began to doubt if their duo venture had been such a good idea after all.

Maisie came back outside after three minutes, wearing a pair of swimming goggles over her eyes and a cooking apron over her dress. She looked rather silly looking and most certainly not proper safety equipment, but at least it was better than having no protection on at all. Immediately she sat back down and got to working again. She began to heat the edge of a new segment of metal strip, using the melting metal to fuse it to the side of the already forming stun gun. It seemed that all she had left to do was fix the outer layer, as the wiring and battery were already prepared within. After another five minutes she had completely finished one side of the tool, leaving it like an opened skeleton, all the electrical organs on view.

A thought popped into Jared's head. "Won't it electrocute me if I try to use it?" He asked. "I mean, it's made completely of metal."

"That's what the rubber casing is for." Maisie explained. "So long as there's no faulty wiring you shouldn't have to worry."

Suddenly the door to the inside of the house swung open. This was the only thing to happen so far that day that made Maisie look away from her work. She and Jared stared at the doorway, her eyes wide in fear. Stood there was a tall, middles aged man, wearing plain blue pyjamas and a pair of thin rimmed glasses. He looked through the doorway, a confused expression on his face.

"What's going on out here?" He asked, stifling a yawn. Then he noticed Jared, who stood half way across the garden with his arms crossed and his hoodie up. Jared smiled and gave him a nervous wave. The man looked back at him. "Who are you? Are you a friend of my daughter's?" He asked.

Jared nodded. Assumedly this man was Maisie's father. They didn't look very similar. His hair was blond and his eyes were blue, while Maisie's hair was brown and her eyes were orange. He also had a much gaunter, skinny shape to his body, while Maisie was closer to an average size.

Mr Collard turned, and noticed his daughter sat at the small table. Then he noticed the blowtorch, and the hot flame expelling from it.

In less than a second, the man's cheerful, greeting smile turned into a horrified frown.

"Maisie, what the hell are you doing?!" He shouted.

He rushed over, and in a swift movement swiped the blowtorch from her hands, his fingers nearly passing across the flames as Maisie recoiled in surprise. He switched the tool off and held it out in his hand, giving Maisie a horrified and furious glare. "I told you not to go out and buy anything! I warned you!"

"I didn't buy it!" Maisie insisted. She looked in Jared's direction, hoping he would defend her. "I didn't spend any of _our_ money! Jared bought it for me!"

Jared felt a ripple of discomfort flow down his spine like a cold shower. He stared at Maisie, surprised that she had dropped him into this situation and uncertain what to do about it. He looked from Maisie to her furious father. The man looked back, no less angry then he had been with his daughter, and gave Jared a cold stare, eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

"Who are you, might I ask?" Mr Collard demanded.

Jared bit his lip anxiously, and held up a hand in a hopefully friendly gesture. "Jared Wreath, sir." Jared said quietly.

Mr Collard continued to stare at him. He pointed accusingly at Jared, the blowtorch still in his hand.

"Get out of here! I need to speak with my daughter." He stated firmly.

Jared did not want to hang around to hear the argument that was about to follow. He looked apologetically at Maisie, and ran. He left the small house and sprinted around the back and onto the street at the front. As he left, he heard the raised voice of Mr Collard boom out from the household. Jared flinched a little. He felt guilty for what was happing. He shouldn't have bought that blowtorch, but Maisie had insisted. He wanted to finish their project as much as she did, and that had seemed the only way to get there. As he returned home, still running, the shouting of Maisie's Father distant in his ear, he lifted his hood over his head. Embarrassment and regret filled up his chest.

* * *

For a few days after that Jared heard nothing from Maisie. The phone was silent, didn't ring once, not even one sales call or wrong number. He was unable to shake the bad feelings in his heart. He hadn't encouraged Maisie's dangerous actions, but he had enabled them. He should never have bought that wretched blowtorch. He'd bribed the clerk for it in the first place - which he was almost certain was not legal - and then given it to a girl that has no danger awareness or sense of self preservation. If her father was angry at him then he was not at all surprised. His own father had not learned about this incident yet, Jared had managed to keep it hidden from him and his siblings for the time being. But eventually he would learn of it, and when that happened… Jared didn't want to imagine.

During the days where Maisie didn't contact him, he tried to do something to take his mind off the subject, and forget about his guilt and regret for a while. He continued to train in his father's gym, unbeknownst to the man himself, though Petra had still been willing to keep it a secret from him. The more Jared worked upon his body, stretching and testing the muscles in his arms and legs, the better he felt. He was not making any massive improvements, but little by little he was getting better.

On one off day, when he was feeling especially down about the embarrassing situation he had been caught up in, he decided to put pen to paper and formulate a letter. The idea had been floating around inside his brain for a while, since he and Maisie had decided to team up and pass the entrance exam together. He had originally forgotten the name of the place where the course would be taken, but after reviewing the advert again its name had been added to his memory. Broadhurst Heroism Academy, a brand new further education sixth form college that had only just been set up in the city. Considering that he was Quirkless, he wanted to make sure that they would allow him to take the exam for their course. He had hoped that getting support from this school would give him a chance of at least being noticed, but without that he would have to find another way to get their attention. The only problem was, he didn't know who to send the letter too. There had been no mention of who would be teaching the course, except for Ravenhead, who was plastered all over their marketing.

Jared supposed he had no choice but to send the letter to him. He considered emailing him, but while finding Ravenhead's personal or business email would not be difficult with access to the internet, it was much more likely that an email would just be sorted into spam and never seen. Jared wanted his letter to be noticed. He remembered a conversation he had once had with his mother, when she was still alive. She had told him that, since the advancement of technology, handwritten letters had become much more uncommon, so if he wanted to surprise someone and get their attention he ought to send them a letter via post. Apparently it showed a certain keenness and dedication to put the time into writing a letter then it did to just type up an email. Jared wondered how true this statement was, or if Ravenhead was the kind of person who would appreciate such a thing. While he could not be certain, he imagined that sending a written letter to a hero would be more appreciated than an email.

He began scrawling words upon an aged page. Other than Julian, who was very keen into drawing at the moment, most of the family had no use for paper in their day-to-day life. It took a few tries and attempts to complete the letter in the way he wanted, but by the time it was done it consisted of one large paragraph, various spelling mistakes crossed out and a few spots of ink… and some tears as well.

Jared searched up the mailbox address of Ravenhead, which turned out to be available on his personal webpage, scrawled it onto the top of the letter, and dropped it into the nearest mailbox the first chance he got. This act made him feel slightly more hopeful, but he didn't want to let that hope grow too big. There was still a big chance that Ravenhead would not read it, or respond to it, or get it. If any of these things happened it would be the end of Jared's dream before it even began. He hoped, with crossed fingers, that a renowned hero such as Ravenhead would not be so cruel a man.

* * *

After almost five days of waiting Jared finally got fed up of waiting. He dialled Maisie's number into his phone, and waited for an answer. It went to messages. He tried again, and again no response. It was only on the third try that he got a response, after listening to bleeping for thirty seconds.

 _"Hello?"_ Said Mr Collard.

Jared felt the awkwardness fill his stomach once more. He had hoped not to be picked up by him. He had not made a good first impression.

"Hi, is Maisie there?" He asked uncomfortable.

 _"Who is this?"_ Her father asked.

"Jared Wreath." Jared answered.

The man gave a small, annoyed sigh. Again, Jared felt his guilt coming back, made worse by the man's tired, bothered and disappointed exhaling. He didn't get an answer. There was the sound of movement away from the phone. Jared waited for a minute, wondering what was going on. Then the phone was picked up again.

 _"Hello?"_ Maisie said from the other end.

Jared was surprised. He hadn't been expecting her to come to the phone so suddenly, certainly not after her father had picked up.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jared asked her quickly, the words coming out in a clumsy jumble.

 _"I'm fine."_ Maisie reassured him. _"My dad grounded me. I can't come out and meet you right now. He won't even let me call anyone."_

"I'm sorry." Jared told her.

 _"Why?"_ She asked, sounding honestly confused. Jared paused.

"Because I bought that blowtorch for you. I got you into trouble." He told her, the guilt in his heart growing denser, boiling up like a surge of stomach acid into his throat.

 _"It's not your fault. I asked you to buy it."_ Maisie said, matter-of-factly.

"I know, but I still should have known better."

There was a momentary pause.

 _"My dad had a talk with me."_ Maisie continued, sounding a little upset and embarrassed herself. _"You were right. I wasn't being safe. I shouldn't play around with dangerous tools without proper safety."_

Jared felt a small amount of gratitude for that. It was nice to hear an apology, even though he was just as much at fault for the incident.

"It's okay." Jared told her, not sure what else he could say. He recalled their project, and the guilt returned. "Are we still going to work together to pass the exam?" He asked after a second of silence. The question felt like a growing weight upon his shoulders. Every moment of silence following it was heavy and dense like smoke, and the background ticking of the room's clock was growing slower with each second.

 _"My dad and I also talked about that."_ Maisie finally answered. Jared waited, fearful that she might say she was banned from speaking to him after today. He wouldn't blame her father for taking such an action.

Maisie sniffed, and spoke again. _"I told him about what we were working on, and about the entrance exam to the hero course Ravenhead is running. He already knew about that, but he didn't know I had interest in it. I told him about you being Quirkless, and that the both of us were helping each other pass this exam…"_

She paused again. The suspense was only making the fear greater in Jared's heart. He couldn't expect any other response than a bad one at this point.

 _"So… he and I came to an agreement."_ Maisie said quietly.

Jared paused.

"An agreement?" He asked, a slither of hope portrayed within his voice.

 _"He told me that I must do household chores for the next month to repay for disobeying him, and that anything I buy for my gadgets must now come from my own money and if I am to make any gadgets I must do so at a local forge he has agreed to take me to. In return for this… he has agreed to let me take the Exam for Ravenhead's course."_

The small spark of hope that had been dwindling within Jared's heart for years, which had almost been extinguished multiple times, was finally being rekindled by this new found fuel source.

"You mean… we can keep working together?" He asked.

 _"Do you want to?"_ Maisie asked.

"Yes!" Jared stated in an instant. "Of course I do!"

 _"Good."_ Maisie said. While Jared could not see her face at that moment, he could tell by her voice that she was smiling. _"I'm sorry I wasn't listening to you, Jared. I don't have many other friends, and I'm not used to social interactions. I'm glad you still want to work with me."_ There was a small pause, before she added _"You're my best friend!"_

Jared had not been expecting that. He didn't know Maisie that well, but he could have guessed that she didn't have many other friends. She didn't seem to be the kind of person that would go out and make them. Jared didn't have many friend either, though not for the same reasons as her. His aggressive attitude and solitary habits tended to deter others. Only a few people not related to him were prepared to put up with him.

While it was cheesy and childish, hearing such a kind series of words said to him by someone like Maisie… the feeling was tough to describe. It was close to a sensation of Joy, though not quite as bright and beautiful as that. Maybe it was better to describe it as a mixture of clarity and gratitude. It made him blush slightly.

"You're my friend, too." Jared said back.

He heard Maisie faintly giggle from the other end of the line. That made him chuckle a little.

 _"I can't meet up with you right now, but my dad will let me call you if I need to."_ Maisie explained, sounding more excited in tone than she usually did. "Once I have the stun gun finished I'll call you, and you can come over to see it."

"Is your dad okay with us making a stun gun?" Jared asked.

 _"So long as I'm supervised and we get a professional to inspect it and make sure it's safe."_ Maisie explained.

"That's good." Jared told her. "I know you can finish it. We still have a few weeks till the thirty-first. I've written a letter to Ravenhead, asking if they're accepting Quirkless students. I asked is we could still take the exam by the thirtieth. We have until then to get prepared, so long as he responds back saying we can do it."

 _"Great!"_ Maisie told him. _"That's more than enough time!"_


	6. Chapter 5 - The Entrance Exam

**Maisie Collard**

* * *

It was the big day. A month of work and preparation had passed, and now the last day of July had arrived. She stood with Jared outside of the small metal, spherical building where the exams were taking place. She had been expecting to see a long queue of people lined up to enter, but other than the two of them there was nobody. She supposed that, considering the exam was almost over, most people had already been and gone. Still, she had expected to see at least a few other hopeful applicants waiting around.

She and Jared had continued to communicate and collaborate over the weeks, and after much hard work they had both prepared everything necessary for the exam. With her father's guidance and the assistance of a local metalwork company, Maisie had been able to finish the stun gun a few days prior, will minimal safety issues. Jared had continued to train and wait, and not long after their phone call he received a response letter from Ravenhead himself, signed with a wax raven. It had confirmed that the both of them would be eligible for the exam, which had really cheered Jared up. He had been concerned up to that point whether he would even be allowed to take the exam, so hearing this had been very relieving for him. Maisie was also gladdened by the news that she and Jared could both take exam together, since they were reliant on each other to prove themselves.

At this point in time, neither Maisie nor Jared was completely sure what to expect of the exam. They knew that they would be judged on their Quirks and talents, but would that be enough? With Jared being Quirkless, and Maisie's Quirk having a very specific application, both of them were unsure as to how they would make themselves seem worthy candidates for the course.

The two of them looked at each other, and saw the same mixture of excitement, anxiety, hope and fear was playing upon the other's face.

"Well, no use standing around out here." Jared said, pulling at the collar of his hoodie. "Let's go inside."

* * *

The interior of the building was almost no different to the exterior. It seemed that the structure had been built in a matter of days. There was a significant lack of rooms, the only one present taking up the entirety of the spherical structure. It was a large training field, with a dry dirt floor and an iron fence running around the perimeter. A few punching bags stood to one end, and at another was a swimming pool. At the furthest end of the structure, opposite to the entrance, was a long wooden table, with three figures sat at it.

Maisie felt her heart pause for a brief moment, as her eyes noticed the looming characters watching them, and she realised that their eyes were all focused on her. She had never experienced such a feeling before. Her hands clenched and unclenched, as sweat began to gel upon them. She glanced at Jared, and he seemed just as nervous as her, though he tried to hide it under a stern expression and the shadow of his hood.

The both of them approached the table. Every step felt like she was wading through inches of snow. Her perception of time left each footfall feeling like the pace of a giant, and her body began to feel massive and ungainly. Anxiety could have terrible effects on people, especially upon the ways they viewed themselves. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, hoping that the eyes of the watching figures would not judge her too harshly.

Eventually their long walk across the dirt field led them to the table, and the figures waiting for them. From a distance they had been hard to recognise, though now that she was closer Maisie could make out the details of their faces, clothing and expressions.

The man sat at the far right of the table was most certainly Ravenhead. It was not difficult to figure this out. He had a large black beak, glassy black eyes and short black feathers covering the entirety of his head, arms and shoulders. He was wearing a sleeveless brown waistcoat, which contrasted strangely with the many avian features of his form. His hands, which were placed upon the table, were dark and wrinkled, with talons instead of nails, and his arms had much longer feathers on them which formed the shape of wings.

The other two men Maisie didn't recognise. In the middle of the three was a tall man, taller than the other two by at least a foot. He had a thick goatee beard, with two large curling horns protruding from the edge of his hood, which he had up over his head. He sat back in his chair, with a reserved, cautious expression.

The third man at the far left of the table was dressed like a punk rocker, a tight leather jacket around his torso and several small chains hanging from his arms and waist. His hair was black, with a thick silver line running across the parting to the left side of his head. The colouring suggested that it was actually the black area of his hair that had been dyed, and not the silver. He was leaning forwards, bright blue eyes staring judgmentally at the two teenagers entering the room, arms folded upon the table. It was he who unnerved Maisie the most, though his eyes seemed to be focused more upon Jared.

The two of them stopped as they finally reached the table. The three men looked at them. There was a moment of awkward silence. Finally, Ravenhead spoke.

"You are Jared Wreath and Maisie Collard, yes?" He asked.

Maisie and Jared nodded.

Ravenhead sat forwards, tapping a hooked finger upon the table, which was dented from previous occurrences of the same habit. He blinked strangely, the skin around his eyes folding awkwardly across his round, black, glossy eyeballs.

"Thank you both for coming here today. To clarify, this exam is for the applicants wishing to join the hero training course at Broadhurst Heroism Academy. The both of you are here today for that exam?"

The two teenagers nodded.

"This is a more unusual situation for us." Ravenhead continued. "We did receive your letter, Mr Wreath. While the exam is supposed to judge each applicant separate to the others, the both of you have requested to take this exam together. We should also make it clear that you are the first Quirkless applicant to apply for this course, so in respect of this we have been forced to alter the exam slightly to allow more appropriate judgement. My colleagues have agreed to allow this. We do, however, have one small rule we need to introduce. Since the both of you have applied together, we are expecting the both of you to show some form of teamwork and co-operation. If one of you is to fail the exam today then neither of you will be allowed to join the course. Is this acceptable for the both of you?"

"Yes." Maisie and Jared said quickly.

Ravenhead gave them a look up and down. Then he smiled, the edges of his beak curving in an unnatural way.

"Very well." He stated. "Let us not wait any longer, and start the exam."

The second man, sat at the centre of the group, stood up from his seat, which fell over backwards with the force. It was here that Maisie noticed the same furry hair upon his legs. His arms seemed to be absent of it, which was odd to her. She wondered what exactly his Quirk was. It seemed that he had goat-like features, yet if he was not completely goat then what was he supposed to be.

"As stated under Quirk Law, decided upon by parliament and acknowledged by her majesty the queen, this exam is to permit the both of you use of any and all Quirks you possess, however, we must remind you that you are in an indoor environment and that any Quirks you choose to display must be controlled for such an environment. Any damage caused to these grounds will come from you own pocket, and any excuses after this warning with not hold up in a court of law."

Jared audible gulped. He gave Maisie a sideways look of surprise and concern. Clearly he hadn't been expecting such a warning in so many fancy words. Neither had she, but she stayed quiet and listened as the three men said their pieces.

The bearded man stood in a more relaxed stance, if still a little withdrawn and compressed. He stood his chair back up before seating himself once more.

"Now, I suppose, we should introduce ourselves." Ravenhead spoke up once more. "If you didn't already know, I am the UK's number ten hero: Ravenhead." He pointed his feathered arm at the two men to his right. "My colleagues are number fourteen hero: Aries, and number thirteen hero: Silver Streak. We will be examining the both of you today."

The bearded man, assigned the name Aries by Ravenhead, nodded stiffly to the two teenagers. The other man, dubbed Silver Streak, didn't so much as blink. His keen gaze was fixed upon Jared, unmoving and stubborn. Maisie couldn't help but feel intimidated by the man. The way he was looking at her friend was discomforting. It was as if he planned something unpleasant.

"For this exam, we give the both of you the right to use any equipment, tools, gadgets or tech you may require." Ravenhead continued, introductions now out of the way. "We can supply targets should there be need for them. I am led to believe that one of you has brought your own equipment, correct?"

Maisie took a second to realise he was talking about her. She reached into her small bag and extracted with trembling, sweating hands the stun gun she had been crafting over the last month. She held it up between her fingers so that the three examiners may see it.

"Could you explain what this device is?" Aries asked.

Maisie swallowed down her nerves, took a second to breathe in deeply, and then began to speak in the strongest, most confident voice she could muster.

"This is a stun gun. I crafted it myself out of a metal can, a hand-held phone, and spare tire rubber."

There was a moment of quiet as the examining heroes listened to Maisie with curiosity. Then Aries spoke.

"If you require a stun gun, why not just buy one?" He asked inquisitively.

Maisie gulped. The attention was beginning to get to her. She could feel her arms shaking with nerves. "My Quirk allows me to create any kind of gadget out of any kind of material." She explained, the strain of standing before an audience and explaining herself causing a hot sweat and jittering legs. "When I look at any kind of material, I see the many ways in which it can be used, and I utilize this to create any kind of gadget that I want. I see the plan for the gadget within my head, and I also see any other materials which I will need to complete it. For example, I came up with the idea for this stun gun after spotting a brand new mobile phone in a shop window." She lowered the stun gun, her hands trembling. "I call my Quirk Crafter's Eyes."

The three men looked at her, having listened to every word she uttered with intrigue. Maisie had never seen such expressions of curiosity before. She hadn't been expecting any interest in her Quirk. She hadn't told many people about her Quirk before. Only Jared and her parents knew about it before today, and their reactions had been very different. Jared had been impressed, and had called her a genius. Her parents on the other hand knew about all the small issues the impulsive nature of her Quirk had, and they had grown sick of them by this point in her life. The feelings of anxiety she was trying to contain were growing evermore potent and had slowly begun to break down the dam of self-control.

"You most certainly have an intriguing Quirk…" Stated Aries, whose dark eyes were focused upon the gadget within her hands. "How long does it take you to make such equipment?"

"It depends on what I want the gadget to be." Maisie explained, keeping her cool as best she could. "When any material I need is available to me, it could take anywhere between a few hours and a day. When it is not, it can take much longer. This gun took me several weeks, as I had to obtain a blowtorch to keep the metal from falling apart."

The three men looked surprised, even the quiet Silver Streak gave her a look of shock.

"Is the use of dangerous metalwork tools a common necessity for you?" Aries continued.

"No." Maisie interrupted quickly. "It was just on this one occasion. The gun creates a lot of heat when activated, so tape was not enough to keep it together. Previous projects of mine have not needed tools to make them work, though it is a distinct possibility that I may need to use them in the future."

Aries nodded slowly, though his concerned expression did not fade. He chewed his fuzzy lip slowly, thoughtfully.

"To me it seems that your Quirk inspires you to get involved with dangerous tools." He muttered observantly. "A Quirk like yours would be much better suited to industrial work, such as inventing. Are you sure that you want to become a hero?"

Maisie gulped. She hadn't been expecting such a forward question. She didn't have an answer for him. She hadn't thought about this much. She knew that her Quirk wasn't exactly a hero's Quirk, but she had hoped she could find a way to make it useful.

"Part of a hero's job involves facing dangerous criminals. In these cases combat is expected. How would your Quirk be useful if you were faced with such a scenario?" Aries continued.

"My Quirk requires time and thought to create the gadgets I come up with." Maisie admitted. "In that respect, its uses in combat would be limited." She paused, taking a quick yet deep breath. "However, I was hoping that having a strong understanding of the situations I would be entering would allow me enough time and knowledge to make any gadgets I may need to prepare for that situation."

"And do you think such opportunities would be common?" Aries asked.

"I would hope." Maisie said. "Though with further training I am sure I could learn to create my gadgets much faster, in order to deal with those times where such an opportunity is not available."

"I see." Aries said, lowering his head. "That is all I wish to ask."

"Thank you very much, Miss Collard." Ravenhead stated. "I believe we have heard enough about your abilities for now." He turned his eyes to Jared. "Now, let us hear from your companion."

Jared looked up. By his expression, Maisie assumed he had been anxiously awaiting this attention. He coughed, and raised his head in the hopes to look confident.

"The three of us are already aware of your situation," Ravenhead told him honestly. "As we each saw the letter you sent. While this is most certainly an unusual case, we all decided to give you a chance to come here today and explain why you believe you are capable of becoming a hero." He sat back in his chair, arms folded. "Whenever you're ready…" He stated with a gesture.

Jared was silent for a few seconds. Maisie could practically see the thoughts running through his head, though she left him alone to say them for himself.

"My father is the number one hero: Progenitor Wreath." Jared stated quickly.

The three heroes nodded, their suspicions confirmed.

"I thought as much." Ravenhead stated. "I have only met the Progenitor a few times. I knew that he had offspring, though he never openly mentioned them, and from what I understood he's managed to keep them out of the media's eye."

Jared nodded quickly. "That's him." He agreed. "I'm his eldest."

"Being the son of a renowned hero does not make you the same thing." Aries reasoned. "I assume you have other reasons for believing you are capable of becoming a hero yourself."

Jared turned to Maisie, and held out a hand. She passed him the stun gun with gentle fingers and placed it in his palm. He turned back, the fat, rectangular weapon gripped tightly in his fingers and aimed at the floor.

"As you already know, I do not have a Quirk." Jared admitted honestly. "Though with Maisie's assistance, I was hoping that I would be able to use the gadgets she makes as an alternative to my own power. Together the two of us could utilize each other's skills and abilities as a team to face any kind of scenario and any type of opponent… and I believe that, with the training your course is offering, I could make this a possibility, not just for myself but for the both of us."

Another moment of quiet, as the examiners took in what had been said.

"So that is the plan you had for the both of you?" Aries asked him sternly. "You leech off of her Quirk while using it for yourself?"

Jared looked offended. "No!" He stated quickly. "I had no intention of taking away from Maisie's abilities. I simply feel that working alongside her would allow the both of use to use the other's skills to their fullest."

"I'm perfectly fine with Jared using the gadgets I make." Maisie added quickly. She was not lying in saying this. Working with Jared to make the stun gun had been invigorating. It had given her a reason to continue making gadgets.

"You've mentioned skills several times now." Ravenhead interrupted. "Would you mind explaining what skills you have exactly, if not your own Quirk?"

Jared paused. For a moment he seemed unsure how to answer that question. Maisie looked at him, wondering if he'd thought about it before.

"Well, I…" Jared tried to say, but evidently he was struggling to think of a good example.

Maisie suddenly realised that she couldn't help Jared with this. She didn't know very much about him, other than the fact that his father was a famous hero and he wanted to be just like him. She didn't know anything about his skills or talents, his interests or hobbies. She wondered if Jared even had any. He always seemed so distant when it came to the subject of his personal life, and the realisation that Maisie had never asked him about it left her unable to aid him with creating an example.

"I can run a hundred metres with little trouble…" Jared told them, trying to come up with something, anything that may sway the examiner's opinion of his capabilities. "I've used punching bags and training equipment to improve my body, and I've been in several small fights at school that were not always provoked by me… I took martial arts classes for a year when I was fourteen… I used to watch my father's work on the TV, so I saw the kind of criminals that heroes often face and many of the dangers that come with the job…"

Aries raised a hand sharply, and Jared fell quiet. "While these all sound like interesting skills…" He stated forwardly. "…I doubt that very few of them would actually be useful for a hero. The only one you have mentioned of direct use that I can see is your martial arts training, and you said that was only for one year and you were fourteen at the time."

"I can always learn new skills." Jared argued. "I admit I don't know much at the moment, but is that not what this course is for? I was hoping that, by studying under heroes like yourself, I would be able to develop the skills I would need to face crime and protect others."

"That is true, but a course like this one requires that students enter with at least a modicum of natural or learned talent for the job." Aries explained. "I'm concerned that a student like yourself may suffer in such an environment. As much as we are here to teach you, we can only do so much to improve your abilities. The actual effort must come from yourself, and if you cannot adapt to the environments which a hero will be forces to live within then…"

"I'm asking for a chance to prove myself." Jared interrupted. "I understand your concern that I cannot live up to expectations, but for my entire life I have had to deal with that same belief. I may be Quirkless, but that doesn't mean I am incapable. I wish for the chance to prove that. I believe I can learn a lot from this course, and if the three of you are willing to accept me I will do everything I can to not fail you."

The three heroes looked at him in shock. Ravenhead and Aries seemed rather stunned by his speech. Silver Streak was still staring at him with his quiet, judgmental expression. He had not said a word this entire time. Then finally he opened his mouth and spoke.

"That stun gun." He said in a voice like smooth iron. "Do you know how to use it?"

Jared looked at the gun, then at them.

"No." He said.

"Have you never fired it?" Silver Streak continued.

"I have not, but I have been guaranteed that it works."

Silver Streak nodded. Then he stood up. The other two heroes looked at him. Maisie noticed the concerned expression of Ravenhead. It was tough to tell past the feathers and beak, but he was most definitely worried by whatever his colleague was about to do.

"Would you mind showing us how it works?" He asked, folding his arms across his waist.

Jared looked at Maisie nervously. Maisie wasn't sure what to say to him, so she nodded slowly. Jared turned back to the examiners.

"Of course." He said.

He turned away from the examiners and aimed the stun gun at a nearby archery target, which had been placed nearby to the table. The straw target was dotted with holes, charred marks, slashes and segments of melted cloth from previous use. It stood almost two metres away, not too close for the shot to be easy but also not far enough to be out of reach. Jared recalled the explanation Maisie had given him upon the weapon's completion a few days prior. He did the best he could to explain it and copy the required actions.

"I simply aim the gun at my target, hold the grip in both hands, and then lightly squeeze the trigger." He explained. He gave a small glance to Maisie, with an expression that asked if he had gotten the method right. She nodded back to confirm, and Jared immediately seemed more confident.

He did as he had explained, hands layered in sweat, and from the tip of the barrel the two pronged teeth were fired across the room with a loud popping sound. The prongs buried themselves into the red ring of the target, a thin copper wire leading from each tooth back into the gun. As Jared kept the trigger compressed, the sound of sparking emitted. The wires shook and small heated sparks escaped from the prongs, the sound of electrical ticking escaping the gun. After a few seconds, Jared removed his finger, and the sparking and ticking stopped simultaneously. He flicked a small switch on the side of the gun and the wires slowly began to retract, pulling the prongs out from the target.

Jared turned back to the examiners, looking rather proud of himself. They looked back at him, each wearing a different expression. Ravenhead looked slightly impressed by the display. Aries had the same concerned and unsure expression as before. Silver Streak was still emotionlessly staring at him, his blue eyes coldly observing the boy. He lowered his arms, and gave a small sigh.

"If I may speak…" He stated, turning to his two colleagues. Aries nodded at him, while Ravenhead only looked at him, concerned.

Silver Streak took a step away from the table, and slowly he approached the two teenagers. The two other heroes watched, unsure what he was about to do. The glance they gave each other suggested that they had a faint idea.

The number thirteen hero stood in front of the two teenagers, arms folded and fingers gripping the chains of his jacket. The hanging metal rings began to swing slowly back and forth. His eyes shifted from Jared to Maisie, his cold glare judging them both.

"It appears to me that the both of you came here today expecting sympathy, admiration, maybe even a bit of pity." He said slowly, letting each word sink into the skin like water. "Well, I'm afraid it's time someone destroyed that expectation."

"Peter…" Ravenhead spoke up quickly.

Silver Streak raised a hand, silencing him. "You have had your words, now you will let me have mine." He demanded.

Ravenhead fell quiet, though his expression became no less concerned. Silver Streak lowered his arm and continued to talk to the two teenagers. He looked at Maisie, and immediately she felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

"Your Quirk is most certainly interesting. With the right environment it could be incredibly useful for both yourself and others working with you…" He paused, the niceties of his discussion now done with and abandoned. "However… it is not an appropriate Quirk for a hero. There will be very few times, if any at all, where a Quirk like yours would be useful, and as such I can only see you becoming a detriment to those working with you. You are not physically strong and you clearly lack the knowledge and confidence needed by those who risk their lives facing crime. As such, I believe that taking you on as a student would be a waste of our time, because you will never be capable of becoming a hero."

Maisie felt the hope and joy that had been developing inside of her over the last month begin to seep out through her feet into the dry floor. She looked miserably down at the ground, ashamed and embarrassed by the words of a famous hero.

"I see…" She muttered quietly, the beginnings of sorrow building up in her eyes and throat.

With his ridiculing of her out of the way, Silver Streak now turned to Jared. "And as for you, Master Wreath…" He stated with the same cold, forward and heartless tone he had used on Maisie. "…Need I explain why you are unsuitable for this course?"

Maisie could not see Jared's face past her hanging hair and forming tears, but she could imagine his expression. She imagined him looking furious, offended, possibly embarrassed by the man's statement.

"I was open about the fact that I am Quirkless…" Jared told him. "But I also promised you that I would work to improve myself and find a way around this detriment."

"I was aware that you did not have a Quirk before you came here today." Silver Streak explained. "I had hopes that someone brave enough to admit they lack any power and still try to become a hero would prove their worthiness during this exam… yet it seems to me that you are only concerned with the way you are perceived, not with your actual ability to perform heroic deeds. You very clearly have a confused perception of what a hero should be."

"But that's not fair!" Jared stated loudly. "I know that my father is a famous hero, but I'm not expecting to succeed because of that. I didn't come here for your sympathy, or for your admiration! I simply wish to prove myself!"

"And in order to achieve that you speak back to those older than yourself, come here with no _actual_ examples of why you would make a good hero, even without a Quirk, and on top of that you plan to leech of another applicant's abilities to give yourself a higher footing." Silver Streak retorted, just as coldly as before, yet even more aggressively. "Your father may be the country's number one hero, but you clearly do not understand the many various and fragile necessities for being a capable hero. It requires more than putting on a cape, wielding a superpower and facing evil. Suppose for a second you came across an opponent who could manipulate the minds of their target, or who could cause severe bodily harm in a matter of seconds. How would you face an opponent like that, with no Quirk, no experience, not even a minute shred of understanding as to how such procedures are executed? No, you would be a massive risk to any victims or other heroes around you."

"That would be your job to teach me those things!" Jared argued back. "You're right, I don't know how to deal with that kind of situation, but I'm prepared to learn. And with Maisie's help I could find a way to deal with any dangerous scenarios thanks to her gadgets…"

"You still think that relying on another person's Quirk to help you is the way forward?!" Silver Streak snapped. He held a hand out. "Give me your stun gun." He demanded.

Angrily, Jared handed over the weapon to the number thirteen hero. Silver Streak looked at the device in his hands.

"Shall I explain why relying on another person's Quirk is detrimental?" He asked rhetorically. His fingers curled around the device. "My Quirk is called Magne-Tangekinesis. It allows me to manipulate any metallic object that comes into contact with my skin, so long as the object is at least seventy-five percent metal of any kind. Thanks to my Quirk, I can alter the state of any metal substance, manipulating it in whatever way I please and even changing its shape to whatever I want it to be."

His fingers clenched tightly around the stun gun, and barely a second later there was the sound of metal creaking. A moment later shards of metal were protruding from the gaps between his fingers, with a horrible cracking and creaking sound following. Silver Streak opened his hand again, and Jared and Maisie saw what remained of the stun gun. The metal shell had been ripped open, splintered and ruptured in every direction till all that remained were a few small segments piercing through the rubber exterior. The copper wiring was twisted and coiled into a jumble of tied up letters, which read out the word 'FAILURE' upon the hero's hand.

"My Quirk in not the only one capable of such things." Silver Streak continued to state. "I can think of at least five people I know who can manipulate metal in a similar way. Against such people, your gadgets are worthless."

He tipped his hand over, and let what remained of the stun gun drop to the floor. Maisie immediately bent down to scoop it up. The only piece that was unharmed was the phone battery, though Maisie was almost certain that there was metal inside that. She wondered if he had chosen to leave it in one piece, though why he would do that she was unsure.

"Do you see now why you would not make it as a hero?" Silver Streak continued. "Relying purely upon the efforts of others is not just tedious and bothersome, but it also hinders both you and those who work with you. If you were to continue to study on this course as you are now you would be a detriment to everyone around you. I very much doubt that you would ever survive a single day as a hero out in the city… that is why you will not be allowed to join this course."

Jared stared silently at the tall man before him, fury and hatred in his green eyes. Maisie couldn't blame him for feeling this way. The both of them had come there on that day with the hopes of proving themselves capable of becoming heroes, only to be humiliated by this man who had already achieved that goal.

"Very well." Jared muttered. He turned away, closing his eyes, pulling his hoodie further up over his head. He gave Maisie a small glance, and she saw for the first time a small slew of tears escaping the edges of his eyes. "We'll leave you in piece." He muttered.

He walked out of the building, and Maisie followed him, not sure how to react to the dressing-down they had both received. She looked back only once, and saw the other two heroes, Ravenhead and Aries, who had not spoken once during Silver Streak's rant, looking at their colleague with stunned and even slightly angry expressions. That surprised her a little, but there was nothing she could do. The hero had made his point, and the both of them had lost any hope they had in proving themselves as capable heroes.

* * *

Maisie closed the door behind them. She and Jared stood outside of the large circular building for a few quiet seconds, unsure what to say or what to do.

"I'm sorry, Jared." Maisie muttered, doing her best to control the sadness in her heart.

"You shouldn't apologise." Jared muttered, not looking at her. "I was the one leeching off you. I got your hopes up. I convinced you that the both of us could make it as heroes.

"I didn't mind working with you." She admitted quietly. "I actually rather enjoyed it."

She didn't know how to put it into words, but Jared had given her a reason to make her gadgets. Before it had just been a hobby, something she did because she could. But when he had come along he had given her a goal, an end game for which her gadgets would be used. That was what had upset her most about Silver Streak's rant. He had assumed that Jared's need for her gadgets was a hindrance. She didn't see it that way.

"I meant it when I said you were my best friend." Maisie continued.

Jared nodded, still not looking at her. The sound of quiet sniffing escaped from under his hood. Maisie looked awkwardly at the floor, not sure what more she could say. She felt just as miserable as he did. The both of them stood quietly for a few seconds longer, as in the distance thunder rolled.

"Forget it." Jared said eventually, speaking quietly from under the shadow of his hood. "It's over, Maisie. Just go home."

"I don't want this to be over." She told him, unable to hold back her tears any longer. "I wanted to keep going, to actually become a hero. I wanted to get there with you…"

"I said it's over!" Jared snapped.

Maisie looked at him, her orange eyes bloodshot and tear stains on her cheeks. As she looked at Jared's furious face, she saw those same bloodshot eyes and tear stains on him. He blinked and shook his head, apologetic for shouting at her a moment before.

"There's no point lying to myself. Silver Streak was right. I can't be a hero. I suppose I knew that all along." He sniffed loudly, as tears began to flood from his green eyes. "I'm sorry I got your hopes up. Please… I just need to go home."

"Okay." Maisie said quietly.

Jared turned and walked away by himself, hunched forwards with his hood still over his head and his sleeved arm wiping away the remnants of tears. Maisie didn't know what to do. She wondered if there was anything she could do. As much as she was also saddened by what Silver Streak had said to her, she could see that Jared was suffering much worse. In times like this friends were expected to stand by each other, to help and support each other… yet Maisie didn't know how to. Also she could do was watch him walk away, and regret that she could not be a better friend to him.


	7. Chapter 6 - A Meeting with Madam

**Yorke Victorsson**

* * *

Ravenhead watched the two disheartened teenagers leave the building, heads low in shame. He waited for them to both leave before standing up from his chair and turning to Silver Streak. The hero garbed in metal chains turned back, and saw the expressions worn by his colleagues. He didn't look proud, as anyone who didn't know him would have expected after listening to his outburst. There was no suggestion of pride over what he had just done. Instead he looked contented, the kind of expression you might wear after finishing cleaning your home, or removing a tricky stain from a carpet.

Ravenhead blinked at him, then, once he was certain that the two examinees had left the room, he stated, loudly and clearly…

"What was that about?"

Silver Streak looked back at him, slightly confused by his anger.

"What was what?" He asked in response.

"That outburst was far from necessary." Ravenhead complained. "Do you not feel that such a reprimanding was too harsh? They're just kids!"

"We're here to decide the students for our course." Silver Streak reminded him. "This is our job. I have a right to turn away any student who I think is not good enough."

"Don't give me that crap, Peter!" Ravenhead snapped quietly, trying to sound as respectful as he could. Silver Streak had a much longer career as a hero than he did. Ravenhead had only been a part of the movement for a couple of years, while Peter Jensen Junior had almost ten years of experience under his belt. He deserved respect for all the hard work he had done, though that didn't mean Ravenhead and he had to see eye to eye. "You've been turning down plenty of worthy applicants since we started the examination. Applicants who both I, Kameron and others thought would make capable students on our course."

"We can only have so many students, Yorke." Silver Streak continued. "We agreed before we started this course that we would take a maximum of twenty students under twenty, and ten over twenty. Without my intervention, we would have reached that limit by day three. There are only so many of us teaching here. I doubt you alone can teach a hundred teenagers by yourself."

"He has a valid point, Yorke." Aries added, joining the conversation from the shadowed safety of his hoodie. He leaned back on his chair, his arms folded across his chest. "We can only handle so many kids between us."

Ravenhead gave him a cold glare of betrayal. "Et tu, Brute? Whose side are you supposed to be on?" He asked with a hurt expression.

"I'm not taking sides. This is not a situation that requires taking sides. I'm simply stating that I agree with Peter on this point." The horned hero turned to his other colleague. "Though while I agree that Peter has the right to turn away any applicants he deems unworthy, he most certainly has an unnecessarily harsh way of doing so. Those kids did not deserve the down-dressing you gave them."

Silver Streak looked away, his eyes turning to the dirt floor. He hummed quietly, clenching his teeth. Ravenhead was aware of how little his colleague liked being disputed with. He was very much like an impudent child in that respect. He had an attitude that tended to portray himself as someone much younger than he actually was.

"They came here expecting to be given an easy time. They needed to learn that being a hero is much tougher than that." He told the two of them.

"There are better ways of doing that." Ravenhead argued. "Ways that do not completely crush their hopes and dreams. Did you even see the expression on the boy's face after you finished scolding him?"

"I did…" Said Silver Streak, "…and it did not concern me. I said what I had to say, and he took it the way that he wanted to take it. I did not think accepting that boy onto our course would be a good idea, so I turned him and his friend away. That is our job."

Ravenhead scraped his beaked jaws together, his own method of gritting his teeth. What Silver Streak was saying aggravated him to no end. His opinions went again so many of the ideals he stood for. He wonders how it was that a man who became a renowned hero at eighteen could be so cold and unsympathetic towards youths who were not so unlike himself. Sometimes Ravenhead wondered what it was that even made that man want to be a hero in the first place.

Unlike Ravenhead and Aries, who acted the second they knew of a threat, Silver Streak only ever acted if he knew he was getting payed. There was a subgroup of heroes who followed a similar approach. In the industry they were known as Mercs. Any citizen in need of a hero was unfortunate if they were discovered by a Merc. The prices they asked for could reach millions if the task was dangerous enough. Silver Streaks was the most famous, most efficient Merc Hero in the UK, and as a result his prices were the highest of all of them.

Ravenhead could only speculate as to why a man like Peter Jensen would even consider becoming a teacher upon this course. It certainly was not because he wanted to teach. He was already rich, so money wasn't the reason, he wouldn't make much money from teaching students anyway. The only conclusion Ravenhead could come up with was that Silver Streak was there out of some form of twisted desire for attention.

But as much as Ravenhead disagreed with his colleague's opinion, he was still faced with the fact that Silver Streak had a right to turn away any applicants for any reason. If he thought a student was not appropriate for the course, it was his right to turn them away, as it was also Ravenhead's and Aries' right to do the same. In his moment of hasty anger he had ignored this fact. Now he was forced to think of an answer to get around it.

"Very well, Peter." He said after a few seconds had passed. "I concede. You made a choice to turn away those applicants, and I accept that. It is in your right." He paused. "Though, if we are to discuss our rights as teachers on this course, I feel I should also remind you that each of us have been given a mild leeway upon picking students."

"I had not forgotten." Silver Streak reassured him. "Each of us can pick one or two extra students if we feel a certain applicant deserves the chance, so long as they study under our supervision."

Ravenhead nodded in agreement. "Kameron has already put his into effect." He continued. "Because of him, two students who you would have turned away will be taking the course under his supervision." He folded his arms, his black eyes glaring into his colleagues shining blue ones. "I have decided to do the same, for those two who have just left."

There was a moment of motionless silence. Aries sat up in surprise. Silver Streak narrowed his eyes at the determined Ravenhead. A single eyebrow hung higher upon his forehead.

"You would take those two under your wing?" He asked with intrigue.

"Under both wings." Ravenhead clarified, folding out both arms and letting the long feathers drop into their full black shape. "Does that really surprise you so much?"

"I never expected you, of all people, to be so keen at tutoring two teenagers by yourself." Silver Streak said with a small smirk. "You, who dropped out of school at fifteen, and spend the next seven years fighting criminals and singing death metal on stage. I would have thought you would detest the idea of becoming a teacher."

"For two students who I believe have a lot of potential," Ravenhead stated with a raised beak, "I am prepared to put up with the struggle. If I did not believe I could support these students, I would not have joined this course as teacher in the first place.

Silver Streak had no argument for that. He simply shrugged, and stepped back, looking uninterested.

"Fine." He muttered nonchalantly. "If you think they have a chance of becoming heroes then, by all means, take them on as students. Though this is not my place, nor yours, to decide that." He turned to leave. "If this is truly what you want, you'll have to discuss it with Madam first."

Ravenhead clicked his tongue in annoyance. He had forgotten about that small condition. She had given them full leeway on deciding the thirty students that would be attending the academy. But even though she had allowed them to make a few small exceptions for specific applicants, she had also asked to be told about any cases before these applicants were accepted onto the course.

"Very well." Ravenhead agreed. "I'll head over there and tell her right now. She should be in at this hour."

Silver Streak looked back at him. For a moment, he gave a small sideways smile from the edge of his tight lips. Ravenhead had always struggled to interpret that man's smiles. It could have meant that he was smug for putting Ravenhead in a difficult position, or annoyed for having his decisions questioned, or possibly even happy that these examinations were almost over.

"You know why there has never been a Quirkless hero before, don't you?" Silver Streak asked in a cold, quiet voice. "It's the same reason there has never been a toddler hero before, or a dog hero. You can't expect a baby to take down a criminal mastermind wielding a fire Quirk. If you make that boy a hero, you'll be sentencing him to death."

And then he left, crossing the room to the metal door, throwing it open with barely a hand movement, and step out into the darkening sky.

"You best get going soon." Aries stated, as the doors closed shut. "Madam won't hang around forever, and she does not like to wait."

"I know all too well." Ravenhead reassured him.

"I wish he was not so lacking in foresight." Ravenhead muttered behind Silver Streak's back. "How can he not see potential in those who are weaker than others?" He wondered.

"He takes after his father too much." Aries supposed. "He is very much like his old man, down to Quirk, face, eyes and hair colour. Training under him probably had a big effect on his way of thinking."

"Another son trying to escape the shadow of his father." Ravenhead muttered. "It is unfortunate that two of them would have to clash today." He reached a clawed hand into the pocket of his waistcoat, and pulled out a small ring of keys, one of which was large and black and made of plastic. "Do you need a ride?" He asked.

"I wouldn't mind one." Aries said with a small smile.

* * *

Ravenhead's car was not like anything one might imagine. As the tenth most acknowledged hero in the country, anyone would expect him to drive some kind of posh, polished sports car, probably painted black with various bird motifs upon its bonnet and boot. The actual car he owned was the complete opposite of this. It was a blue three wheel van, with a low roof, dented front bumper and rusting license plate. The thing was barely big enough for one person, yet it had two seats at the front. You could half expect the words 'Trotters Independent Trading' to be printed on the side.

It made an awful lot of noise as it started up. A bellows of smoky fumes spouted out from the exhaust as the engine ignited. Aries looked out through the back window, concerned. His horns scraped the roof of the vehicle.

"How old is this thing now?" He asked.

"At least twenty years old." Ravenhead told him, unconcerned, his arms fiddling frantically with the hand break, steering wheel and dashboard. "It's a fifth generation second-hand vehicle. Don't worry, she's stronger than she looks."

The two men sat rather uncomfortable within the car, as it spurted and gasped and tried to start. Ravenhead's feathered arms took up a lot of space, and Aries was not exactly a small man. From outside it looked like some form of crazy petting zoo was being constructed within the vehicle. As the car finally spluttered into movement it left a small trail of black fog behind it, and the raven hero and the ram hero set off to find their employer.

The drive from the exam site to the academy sites was not especially far away. Both were on the western outskirts of Galafrei city, though at different point. The school was much further out, almost at the edge of the city, while the exam site was not far from the inner suburbs. Ravenhead followed the well-lit roads. The sky was getting darker already. It seemed a storm was on the way. That didn't bode well for him. It was a nightmare trying to dry his feathers.

The two of them sat quietly for a while, watching other cars drive by, some abiding the speed limit, others racing like maniacs. They waited at several red lights, as the sky grew darker and thunder grew louder in the distance. Eventually they left the main road and followed a dirt track away from the city and into the quiet countryside.

"How did you know they were right for the course?" Ravenhead asked suddenly. Aries looked at him. "Those students you made an exception for… why them?"

Aries was silent for a moment. "It was really the only thing I could do." He admitted. "While I was in Scarow, dealing with this criminal Syndicate I had been hunting for a while, I came across the both of them at police station. They'd both been found at two separate crime scenes, one for murder, and the other for a supposed manslaughter. According to the officers I spoke with, it was highly likely they would be blamed for the incidents. So I made them an offer. If the officers dropped the charges places upon the two of them, I would take the both of them in as students and make sure they didn't get into any further trouble."

"Do you think either of them did it?" Ravenhead asked.

"I'm not at liberty to tell you that." Aries stated forwardly. "Whether they did it or not, they both came from bad backgrounds in rough parts of the city. I couldn't leave them to face the law by themselves. Not there." He paused for a moment, then turned to his friend. "Why are you standing up for your kids?" He asked.

"I don't know why." Ravenhead admitted. "I suppose that boy reminds me of myself a bit… in more ways than he should. I could see it in their eyes, you know. That spark. The both of them took a risk in taking the exam. It doesn't feel right to just turn them away like that."

"The exam is designed to allow each applicant to demonstrate their abilities freely, and discuss in detail how they would use their abilities to prove themselves as capable heroes." Aries reminded him. "If they both failed this, what good do you do them by giving them a way in?"

"Peter was the one who decided they failed." Ravenhead snapped with annoyance. "You and I had not had a say yet. Besides, I was not planning to turn them away. The girl could be made into a talented enough hero with the work, and though the boy may be Quirkless he shows some potential in his actions. It may be unrefined potential, but potential non-the-less."

"You're certain you aren't letting sympathy decide for you?" Aries questioned.

Ravenhead chuckled quietly. "I might be, a little." He agreed.

"Even if you're right, and the both of them are capable of becoming talented heroes, do you really think you could train the both of them?"

"Well, it won't just be me. You and Niko will be teaching the junior class as well." Ravenhead reminded him. "It won't be easy, but then training to be a hero shouldn't be easy." He paused, before continuing. "The girl won't be so tough. Her Quirk doesn't suit a combat very well, but there's more to being a hero than fighting criminals. I'm certain we can find a way to prepare her for that. As for the boy… he may be trickier."

Aries chewed his lip, thinking. He said nothing for a few seconds, before deciding to speak up.

"It's not easy being Quirkless." He said, not so much to Ravenhead as to the open air around them. "I doubt there are many heroes who truly understand that."

Ravenhead nodded sadly.

"Indeed."

Rain had begun to dribble from the sky by the time the large concrete wall came into view. Ravenhead slowed the vehicle and drove around the structure until came to a sign by the entrance; a large red metal plaque reading _'Broadhurst Heroism Academy'_. The car stopped sharply, and Aries' horn ripped a strip of felt from the roof.

"I can walk back from here." The ram hero told him, stepping out from the car after his companion. "Good luck in there."

Ravenhead nodded back with gratitude and anxiety.

"Thanks, Kameron." He said quiet.

Aries walked away, his hoodie zipped up tight with the hood fully covering his head, and walked away drown the street. Ravenhead turned towards the large building before him, shuddering with nervousness. He always dreaded these meeting.

"Can't hold it off any longer." He muttered to himself in a façade of encouragement. He took a slow step forwards, and entered the small building at the right edge of the structure.

* * *

There was something about Madam that had always unnerved Ravenhead. It was in the small details of her wording, her movements. He had met many people in his lifetime, but none quite like her. She had the energy of a pubescent springbok, and the attitude of a lioness. If not for her accent, she would have been regal enough to convince people she was of nobility. The part of her that truly got to Ravenhead was her cheerful, happy-go-lucky personality, and the smile she always donned like a glistening golden mask. The way she wore her fake smile was… disturbing. Ravenhead had never been frightened by another human being before, but Madam… she was unusual.

As he entered the small office with the red door, a sign upon it reading ' _Madam's Office'_ , he felt that returning shiver of anxiety that he experienced every time the two of them were alone in a room. He knocked upon the crimson metal with his wrinkled knuckles, and waited for a response.

"Enter!" Came a high pitched, nasal shout.

Ravenhead twisted the slippery doorknob, his fingers sliding awkwardly around the metal, and pushed the heavy door open. The only thing almost as bad as speaking alone with Madam was trying to open her office door with talons.

When he eventually succeeded in entering, he found himself standing in the large, colourful office of his employer once again. He'd been here multiple times before, for meetings and arrangements. All of the necessary stuff required for running a school. Every single time he forgot just how nauseous the room made him feel. The walls were bright pink, not even a cool shade of pink like ruby or magenta but a sickly shade of millennial pink, the kind of colour you would see used for selling children's sweets. It made the room feel as if it were made of pure sugar. The furniture was white with softened outlines; a desk with sanded edges and a series of chairs with fluffy cushions. Upon the walls hung silver curtains across the panelled windows, and an assemblage of highly organised paintings and photos hung off every wall, depicting the most light-hearted, fluffy imagery of cats and bunnies and flowers and deer and all kinds of sickeningly sweet things.

If he had been headmaster of the Academy, he would have painted each wall a different shade of black, with leather chairs, a mahogany desk and a different gothic poster upon each wall. For a man like Ravenhead, standing within this room was like staring into the gates of hell.

"Good afternoon, Yorke." Declared Madam, her voice like a thick, sugary syrup, sat behind her bleached white desk. "I wasn't expecting you today. What brings you in?"

Madam Destiny Broadhurst was not far from what one might expect. She was a small woman with golden hair that fell like lava from an erupting volcano. Her small brown eyes were full of subtle charm, and were so sharp she could pierce the hide of a rhino. Her face was like that of a clown; covered from every inch in makeup. The big difference between the two was that clowns were accidentally scary. The effect of all that lip gloss and eyeliner was a middle aged woman that looked like a doll. There were monstrosities that had crawled from the depths of the uncanny valley that did not look as unnerving as her. And that smile, so wide and full of perfectly straight, white teeth… everything about her screamed fake. That was what truly disturbed Ravenhead. She was so perfects that she couldn't possibly be human.

"How is the exam going?" She asked, her hands placing down the thick covered book she had been reading upon the table. Her accent stood out from those of her employees by a far mile. Unlike Ravenhead and the other teachers in her employment, who were all at the very least from somewhere in Europe, Destiny Broadhurst had come across the pond from North America. Ravenhead couldn't quite pinpoint her accent. Apparently her family mostly came from the Midwest, which was somewhere to the north east.

"It goes well." Ravenhead stated as he approached the desk. His nose holes shrivelled as the scent of Madam Broadhurst's perfume entered his nostrils. It smelled the same way that the room looked; sickly and sugary. "Actually that is the reason I came to see you. I wanted to discuss the results of the exams with you, Ma'am."

"Do we have a fine selection of students ready?" She asked, clapping her pampered hands together and rubbing them eagerly.

"We have the thirty students you asked for." Ravenhead told her earnestly. "Twenty for the under twenty's course, and ten for the over twenties." He scratched at his feathery collarbone. "Though, as you're already aware, an extra two students are joining us under Kameron Morse's Supervision."

"I remember. He spoke to me over a week ago about the matter." Madam Broadhurst agreed.

"Well…" Ravenhead continued, the disgusting scent of the perfume causing his thick, wrinkled skin to sweat profusely. "I would like to make an exception of my own."

Madam sat forwards with sudden interest, elbows digging into her wooden table. Her dark eyes looked into Ravenhead's black eyes, and she raised a pencilled eyebrow.

"You found a special student of your own?" She asked curiously.

"Actually, I found two." Ravenhead corrected her.

Madam Broadhurst hummed, and leaned back on her chair. "Having two additional students in the number would take up most of our space already." She explained. "I'm not sure we could manage trying to make room for four extras. What's special about these two applicants of yours?"

"One of them has a Quirk that allows her to make gadgets out of anything." Ravenhead told her. "She brought one of her gadgets in with her; a stun gun made from scrap metal, copper wiring, a phone battery and some rubber. It's not exactly the sort of Quirk suited to combat, but I think that she could still become a very capable hero, if we give her the right support."

"Maybe." Agreed Madam. "She sounds like a gifted young woman. While combat training may prove difficult for her, she may excel in many other areas. Though I'm surprised she would want to become a hero with a Quirk like that. I can imagine that many hero assistant companies would pay large sums to have someone like her working for them."

"I wondered that myself." Ravenhead agreed. "She did answer this during her exam, though. She said that she would overcome the weaknesses of her Quirk by preparing for dangerous situations in advance."

"Those are admirable words of determination…" Madam said. "The problem will be that there are times where a hero has little to no time to prepare before dealing with a situation." She sniffed and twisted a strand of hair around a short, stubby finger. "I think it would most certainly be possible to make a capable hero out of this girl, if what you tell me is indeed true." She stretched a strand of curling hair out into a long line that reached down to her chin. "And the second applicant? What's special about them?"

Ravenhead swallowed. This was the part he knew would be difficult to explain.

"The second applicant… he's different." He tried to explain. Madam looked at him with curiosity, so he assumed he had her interested. "I wasn't expecting it, but not too long ago he sent me a letter asking if he was eligible to take the entrance exam."

"Why would he do that?" Madam asked curiously. "If he wishes to take the course surely he would merely need to turn up and prove himself like any other applicant."

"Well, he isn't like the other applicants…" Ravenhead paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath, not sure what Madam's reaction would be to the words he was about to say. "He's Quirkless."

There was a bloated silence, which filled the room like water. Madam looked at Ravenhead, her smile fading for a mere second before returning shrunken and depressed. She raised her eyebrows in mild shock.

"I see." She said slowly, her mouth twisting the words out as if her lips were stitched open. "Well, that is unusual…" She paused, turning her eyes towards the book on her table. Then she looked back up, her expression curious. "Why would a Quirkless boy try and take an exam to join a hero training course?" She asked the dark-feathered hero standing far from her desk.

"He's the son of a famous hero." Ravenhead explained.

Madam nodded with a smile of realisation. "Ah, well that explains it. Son's trying to live up to their father's expectations." She chuckled quietly to herself. "Which hero was it?"

"Progenitor Wreath." Ravenhead said simply.

Instantly Madam's laughter vanished. She stared at the winged hero stood before her, her small eyes widening to almost twice the size.

" _The_ progenitor?" She asked, dumbfounded. Ravenhead nodded. Madam slumped into her seat, stunned. A large smile slowly grew across her face. "I had no idea that he had a Quirkless son."

"The both of them took the exam together, with the hopes that they could work with each other while on the course." Ravenhead expounded further. "They suggested that the girl would make gadgets for him to use in place of a Quirk. She didn't seem to have a problem with this either."

"That doesn't sound like it would be a good long term plan." Madam pondered.

"Peter made the same comment." Ravenhead agreed.

Madam Broadhurst leaned back, her ring finger plucking gently at her lip with thought. Eventually she sat up and looked the hero in his eyes. "The girl we could work with, but I'm not so sure about this boy. He may be the Progenitor's son, but that doesn't mean he's capable of being the same kind of hero."

"He made it very clear that he was not trying to be the same as his father." Ravenhead argued respectfully. "He said he simply wanted a chance to prove he was capable."

Madam seemed slightly moved by that last statement. She paused, her eyes slowly turning downward, and rested her head upon an open hand. She tapped her lip with her ring finger again, pondering intensely.

"As much as I admire his courage to turn up to the exam for a hero course…" Madam said after a while. "…I fear that his lack of a Quirk would make it very difficult for him to cope with the rigorous classes and exams he will have to take. We can't just make an exception to his studying. That would not be fair for him or the other students." She paused, looking up. "I'm assuming he failed the exam."

"Technically he did." Ravenhead told her, sounding disheartened. "Though, if it were up to me, I would have told him that we would go away and think about his application. Peter sent them away before I got the chance."

Madam sighed. "You've complained about him five times this month." She recalled tiredly. "What exactly did he do?"

"He berated them… both of them." Ravenhead said. "He was less than fair and didn't think for a second about the pain he would cause either of them. He just stood up, approached them, and then told them exactly why they would make bad heroes as they currently are."

"I see." Madam said slowly. "This is most certainly problematic. I gave the three of you the right to decide upon the students yourselves, without a need for my insight unless you ask for it. However, I gave him no permission to treat the applicants this way. I will speak to him about this."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Ravenhead said with a secretively smug smile.

"Though before that, we should finish our discussion about these applicants you want to enrol." Madam continued. "What exactly is it that makes you think this boy would be a good hero?"

Ravenhead looked down at his shoes; black leather with metal heels. He blinked, feeling awkward.

"Well, I'll admit, part of it may be down to personal sympathies." He told her honestly. This earned him a raised eyebrow of surprise and sarcastic shock. He gulped. "But more than that…" He continued. "During the exam there were a few things that stood out about him. He's very determined. Considering he has no Quirk, I imagine he's had to work hard just to get anywhere in life. Yet instead of just giving up on his dream, he groups up with another applicant and works with them to create gadgets that would replace his lack of a Quirk. He also wrote a letter ahead of the exam asking if we accept applications from Quirkless students, and then turning up to the exam and openly admitting the he is Quirkless two three well known heroes. It's not much to start with, but determination is a key asset for any hero."

"It's also a pretty useful asset for villains, too." Said Madam Destiny Broadhurst with a sinister tone. "We cannot judge talent off very simple personality traits that could be applied to anything. We need more than that to perform our jobs, I'm sure you know that."

"It also takes a lot of courage to do what he did this morning." Ravenhead continued. "To stand in front of three famous heroes and admit you are not as capable as others…"

"I think I understand." Madam interrupted. Ravenhead raised his beaked head slowly, his glassy eyes looking hopefully towards her.

"I understand why you, and the other heroes working with us, may think that training this boy is a fruitless endeavour," Ravenhead continued, slightly quieter than before. "…but I'm certain that, if we give him a chance and the appropriate support, we could make a capable hero out of him, and the girl too."

Destiny Broadhurst tapped her lengthy nails upon the table in a repetitive four-beat drumming. "Your sympathies are not coming from your own past, are they, Yorke?" She asked suspiciously.

Ravenhead slowly shook his head. "I promise, my interest in the boy comes purely from his actions and his words, no other source."

Madam sighed.

"Alright then." She stated eventually. "I'm sure we can make space for two more students. What were their names?"

"Maisie Collard and Jared Wreath." Ravenhead said.

Madam Broadhurst flipped open her book and began writing words down upon the pages with a pink feathered pen. That pen made Ravenhead feel uncomfortable. He knew how painful it was to have a feather plucked out, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for the bird it had come from.

"I'll arrange for them both to be initiated onto the course." Stated Madam a few seconds later, placing her pen gently down upon the page. "But the both of them will be your responsibility. If either of them cause trouble, you'll be the one to reprimand them. If either of them are failing the course, you'll be the one who expels them. IIs that clear?"

Ravenhead nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

Madam's sweet, sickly smile returned to her face. It never went away for long.

"I've always admired your honesty, Yorke." She said in her sweet American accent. "And your sympathetic nature has its uses. Just make sure they are not misplaced, because if they are then it won't just be you that suffers because of it."

Ravenhead nodded, and took a step back. "Goodnight, Ma'am."

Madam Broadhurst gave him a small wave.

"Nighty-Night, Yorke."

Ravenhead closed the door awkwardly behind him. Only once it was closed did he let out a massive sigh of relief. His body shivered, making his feathers rustle and rattle. Having a meeting with Madam Destiny Broadhurst was like waiting in line to be executed. The big difference between the two was that an execution usually ended quickly.

Though their meeting had not been a waste of time at least. Madam had agreed to let Jared and Maisie take the course, and he had made it clear that Silver Streak's behaviour was inappropriate. He felt a bit smug about that last part. Peter had been an annoying figure in his way for years. It was about time someone told him off.

He still had one thing left to do before the night ended. He had to get in contact with both Maisie and Jared and tell them about enrolment onto the course, while also apologising for his colleague's behaviour. He wasn't sure where he was going to find their phone numbers or home addresses, though he had a good idea where to start. He had met the Progenitor twice before, and both times had been awkward. The man seemed to be omniscient, aware of everything around him, even the conversation you had not yet had with him. Ravenhead was sure that, with the right wording, he could convince the Progenitor to help him get in touch with his son, though the effort needed for convincing him would not make the experience fun.

Ravenhead had finished one gruelling and uncomfortable social task only to take up another one.


	8. Chapter 7 - The Raven's Offer

**Jared Wreath**

* * *

He lay in a sobbing ball upon the floor of his room, howling and bawling in fury and misery. Well that was it. The dream was over. The lie was up. He couldn't try and convince himself that the impossible was possible anymore. Everything he had fought for, all he had worked towards, uprooted like a weed by one of the very men he aspired to become. The candle of hope that had been faintly burning in his heart was now extinguished, the wick a wisp of ashy smoke and the wax a bubbling pool.

There was nothing left in the world that could console Jared. Not even his own family, who had been trying hard throughout the night to calm him down. Alexis had been sat at his side for hours, doing what she could to make sure he was okay. Julian had mostly stayed away out of worry, though he had entered his room at one point to give him a nervous hug. Even Petra had tried to help. She had gone out and bought him a pepperoni pizza, his favourite food, but even that had not made him feel any better. Jared barely touched any of the food they brought, nor did he accept any of the comfort they offered. As hard as they tried, there was nothing they could do to snap him out of this state.

Eventually they decide to leave him to himself, figuring there was little they could do to support him. He would have to snap out of this state himself. Jared wondered, in his miserable, sobbing, convulsing state, if they even understood why he was upset. They knew what he had been up to over the last month. They knew about Maisie, and the Entrance Exam, and the stun gun and the hero course at Broadhurst Heroism Academy. He had been telling them about it ever since he got the letter back from Ravenhead. That had impressed his sibling. Even Petra, who usually didn't get involved with the hobbies and activities of the Wreath Children, admitted she was interested in seeing the outcome of his work.

The only person who had not been proud of Jared's efforts was his father, though that was because Jared had not told him. He had asked Petra and his siblings to keep his project hidden from him. He knew that, if his father found out, he would try and deter Jared's motivation, and convince him to give up, as he had done so many times in the past. It had taken some time convincing Julian, who was an utter blabbermouth when it came to secrets, but eventually Jared had managed to bribe him with extra pocket money, and the secret had been kept.

If Jared was not in such a wretched state, he would have been impressed by how much pride his family had in his efforts. As it was, he could barely see any of that pride behind the tears and convulsions and the murky mist of depression which had collected within his brain. He felt that his family were wrong for being proud of him, for encouraging him. He had failed drastically to make any impression on anyone. The month just gone had been a waste, and he had no one else to blame but himself.

He eventually calmed down, though it was close to midnight by then. His food had grown cold, but he nibbled at it a few times and tried to keep down the bile in his throat and the tears behind his eyes. He hadn't cured himself of these dark feelings, however. He wanted to scream aloud in fury and pain, but he was too depressed to find the strength to do that. He sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the wall, chewing the tip of a pizza slice, eyes red and tired, cheeks saggy and wet, lips quivering and body shaking.

He did not sleep well. Even in his dreams he couldn't escape the misery that filled his heart. In fact these feelings grew worse in his sleep, as his nightmares exaggerated the awfulness of his experience. The vision of that moment in the metal sphere, before those three examiners, would not fade from his memory. The hero Silver Streak standing in front of him, a dismantled stun gun in hand and stating the words 'You are a detriment. You will never be capable of becoming a hero.' repeated over and over and over again. The images of his many failures, his pathetic attempts to gain attention from others, would not fade from before his restless eyes.

When he woke, he felt no different. He was just as tired and miserable as the day before, and that would not change. He woke up late, his father and siblings already up and moving by the time he stirred. The weekend had just arrived, so he wouldn't have to worry about getting up for anything important, though that didn't make him feel any better.

He considered calling Maisie to see how she was doing. Considering the way Silver Streak had spoken to the both of them, she was probably in a similar emotional state to him. But he didn't. He couldn't find the strength to. That whole part of his life, which had consumed an entire month, felt like a pointless endeavour now, and thinking about it only brought him further pain, embarrassment and self-hatred.

It reached midday in barely a blink, and Jared still lay in his bed, curled up in his blanket, head buried under a mound of pillows. He didn't feel like getting up. There was nothing worth getting up for anymore. He heard the Livingroom phone ring at around one o'clock, but he didn't try and get up to answer it. He left it to ring to itself, and covered his ears with the edges of the pillows.

A minute passed, and the phone rang again. Once more Jared ignored it, hoping that whoever was calling would give up and go away. He just wanted to be alone. He wasn't interested in talking to anyone at that moment. He wanted to disappear under the sheets and become nothing, like a magician's vanishing act, except there would be no trick return. He would just fade away into mist and never come back.

Eventually someone picked up the phone. He could hear his sister answering from the other room, though what she said was barely loud enough to hear.

"Hello?... Yes, he lives here, who is this?... Oh… I'll let him know…"

The sound of footsteps approaching his room, followed by the creaking of his door opening. Alexis popped her head around the doorframe, looking sadly at the pile of pillows and blankets that hid her older brother.

"There's someone on the phone for you." She told him.

"I'm not in." Jared muttered, uninterested.

"You ought to speak to them." Alexis told him. "It might make you feel better."

"It won't." Jared groaned, and rolled over. "Who's calling, anyway?"

"Come down and find out for yourself." Alexis told him, not harshly.

Jared sighed. He supposed he may as well hear who it was that had bothered to call him, if nothing else. It wasn't like he was doing anything anyway. "Alright." He muttered. "I'm coming."

He followed his sister downstairs into the Livingroom, where she picked up the hanging phone receiver from the wall. As she passed it to Jared, she had a strangely please smile on her face. Jared was too tired to wonder why she was smiling, and he limply raised the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" He said, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.

 _"Hello? Am I speaking to Jared Wreath?"_ Asked the voice of Ravenhead.

Jared almost dropped the receiver. He looked at the phone with a surprised glare, eyebrows raised in confusion.

"How did you get my number?" He asked.

 _"I got in touch with your father. He told me how I could contact you."_ Ravenhead explained.

Jared gritted his teeth. That meant his father knew about what he had been doing for the last month. He had done his best to hide it from him. He supposed for a second that his father had likely already figured it out, but even so the acknowledgment that it was true would still lead to the same talks, the same discussions that they always had.

"Why are you calling me?" Jared inquired further, his tiredness fading slightly, though his misery had not shifted an inch.

 _"I wanted to apologise for the way my colleague treated you yesterday."_ Ravenhead said, with what sounded like an honestly apologetic attitude. _"We were wrong for allowing you to be spoken to so cruelly. I failed to speak up in opposition of my companion, and in this regard I cannot offer anything but my sincerest apology for not acting."_

"Thank you…" Jared muttered quietly. "But he was right. I was expecting too much. I can't be a hero."

 _"I will not say that Silver Streak was wrong for pointing out your flaws…"_ Ravenhead continued. _"Though I believe you put the problem into words yourself. We are here to teach you, and if we don't do that then there is no point to this course."_ He gave a small chuckle. _"We can't just turn away a candidate purely because they have human faults."_

Jared wasn't sure what to say in response. He felt a small flicker of appreciation in his waterlogged heart, which lasted only for a few seconds in such a damp environment.

"That means a lot…" Jared said slowly, trying not to cry over the phone. His feelings of failure were rushing back once more. He wanted to go back to bed, to curl up under the sheets once more and forget about the world outside his room. "…but you don't need to protect my feelings. I already failed the exam."

There was a long, harrowing silence, broken only by the shuffling of feathers through the phone. It took a few seconds after that for Ravenhead's voice to return, sounding more melancholy than before."

 _"In terms of performance, then yes… you did fail the entrance exam."_

Jared closed his eyes, blocking the tears before they could fall. The comment did not come as a surprise to him, but hearing it from the mouth of one of the examiners was still tough.

 _"As much as I think Silver Streak's outburst was wrong, I have to agree with a few of his points. It would be very difficult, in fact almost impossible, for a Quirkless person in this day and age to become a hero capable of saving people and fighting criminals."_ Ravenhead continued, sounding gloomier about the fact with each word that escaped from his beak.

Jared leaned against the wall, all of the strength in his body failing in a moment, leaving his muscles like jelly and his bones like rubber. He could barely keep in the heartbroken sobs that tried to escape through his face. He felt the dampness of tears running down his cheek, across his lips and onto his chin. "I expected as much…" He muttered feebly, his voice broken with grief.

 _"Though, if I may say this personally..."_ Ravenhead continued in a sympathetic voice, hearing the cries of the disheartened teenage boy on the other end. _"I admire your determination, Master Wreath."_

Jared blinked, confused. He wanted to speak, to ask what the man meant, but his throat was too dry to form the words.

 _"I've met a lot of people in my relatively short time as a hero…"_ Ravenhead continued. _"I've met people from all walks of life, with all sorts of personalities… though I don't think I've met any young man as brave as you have been."_

Jared exhaled and shivered. His mind couldn't quite figure out what the hero was trying to say to him. He understood the words perfectly fine, but in his inconsolable state he couldn't focus upon their meaning.

"I don't…" He tried to say, but his voice faded to a weak whisper before he could get the next word out.

 _"Courage is not an easy thing to define."_ Ravenhead continued, sounding a little more upbeat now. _"Most people see courage as the ability to put your life in danger for the sake of another."_ A chuckle. _"That's part of it, certainly, but not all acts of bravery involve facing danger. Sometimes bravery is needed to face simple life problems."_

"I…" Jared whimpered, only to be cut off my Ravenhead again.

 _"When I received your letter, I wasn't quite sure what to think. I mean, I don't usually get letters of that sort. Usually I get fan mail or thank you letters from the people I help."_ A dramatic pause. _"But yours was something I had never expected. A letter sent by a Quirkless boy, asking if he was eligible to take the entrance exam for my course. No demands, no great expectations, no pleading for sympathy. Just a young man wanting to prove himself and reach his dream. And as I read that letter I imagined this young man, who had spent his life dreaming of being a hero yet had to deal with the fact that he was born Quirkless. I imagined how brave that young man would have to be, just to pluck up the courage to ask if a school he wanted to attend was accepting Quirkless students for its hero course. He probably wasn't expecting the answer to be yes, he probably thought he would be turned away without a second thought, yet he still asked. I couldn't imagine myself ever being that brave."_

"I…" Jared squeaked. The tears had overwhelmed him now, but not so much because of heartbreak anymore. Ravenhead's words were starting to make sense to him, and in his heightened state of emotion his complements were too much to bare. The receiver was quiet, the caller giving Jared a chance to calm down.

 _"It is because of this courage I witnessed in you, that I wish to make you an offer…"_ Ravenhead said finally, after what felt like an eternal silence.

Jared held his breath, wiping the tears from his eyes, as he listened intently to the words the hero would say next. He was uncertain what they would be, as Ravenhead had not made his point clear, though it was strange that such a man would use a word like 'offer'.

 _"When Broadhurst Heroism Academy was founded earlier this year, those of us teaching there were given a small amount of leeway when picking our students. If we felt that a student who had failed the entrance exam or had not been picked for either of the classes was still capable of studying under us, we would be allowed to take them on as an extra pupil, so long as we kept a close eye on them and took responsibility for them ourselves. My colleague Aries has already made an exception for two students. Considering your situation, and the efforts you made during the entrance exam, I would like to offer you a place within the Junior Class at Broadhurst Heroism Academy as an Extra Students under my supervision."_

Jared very nearly dropped the phone. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't quite believe if he'd heard those words correctly. It sounded too good to be true. He surely could not be conscious right now, this had to be a dream. No way in reality would a famous hero ever call him up and say he wanted to take him on as a student. That just was not possible. Yet it appeared to be happening right now.

"Are you serious?" Jared asked, stuttering his words as excitement began to fuel his muscles. His entire body was shaking with the rush of joy.

 _"Of course I am. It would be quite cruel for me to make a call like this as a joke."_ Ravenhead chuckled kindly.

"But… but I'm Quirkless… Why would you…?" Jared tried to ask.

 _"It's not the Quirk that makes the hero, Jared."_ Ravenhead interrupted him gently. _"Quirks are certainly useful, but a man can still be a hero without them. Among other things, a true hero requires the bravery to do what they feel is right, even when the odds are greatly stacked against them and success seems impossible. They need the willpower to keep fighting, even when everything looks hopeless. They need the courage to stand up, even when they fall, and keep going. I understand that, after the exam, you may doubt yourself capable of anything like that, but what I saw when you entered that room was a young man with a big dream, who had mustered the willpower to keep hold of that dream and the courage to fight for it, even though the odds were against him. My job is to train a class of capable students wanting to become heroes. If I were to turn you away so easily, I would have failed that task before it even began."_

Jared had no idea what to say, though he doubted he was capable of saying anything. The ruined candle that had died within his heart was rapidly regenerating. The flame at its tip grew twice as bright as it had been before, growing further till it became a giant red star, and then exploded into a supernova. The light from that exploding star filled his body with a sudden rush of hope, which devoured the dark thoughts that had been building up like a foul liquid within the creases of his brain. Before he had thought he'd lost any reason to keep going, to keep trying. Now he had found that reason again.

 _"Besides that, I thought it would be interesting to train a Quirkless students."_ Ravenhead continued. _"I've never heard of a hero school doing that before."_

Jared burst into tears once more, but no longer out of misery and self-hatred. These tears were ones of joy and gratitude, and as they fell across his face the saltiness that had once accompanied them became sweet in taste.

"Oh my god, thank you, thank you, thank you!" He blurted out rapidly, the words half-formed and slurred. The excitement was in his voice, the appreciation in his words. Jared had never felt this happy before, not once in his life. Going from utter sorrow to acute joy was an unusually disencumbering experience.

 _"It's quite alright."_ Ravenhead chuckled kindly through the receiver. _"I wouldn't make this acceptation for just any student. I think you could have real potential. I'd hate to see it go to waste."_

A thought struck Jared suddenly. "My friend, Maisie…" He said quickly, some of the joy already fading from his voice. "She and I worked together for the exam… would she be allowed to…"

 _"Your friend, Maisie Collard, has also been accepted onto the course."_ Ravenhead interrupted. _"You needn't threat about that. You and her will be expected to turn up for the first day on September the first. Could you pass this news onto her? Admittedly, I do not have any details to contact her through."_

Jared nodded, though the hero could not see him. Hearing that Maisie had passed as well relieved the final shackles from his soul. He would hate to see her left behind after everything she had done for him, or worse, use her as a stepladder to climb his own tree of success.

"I'll let her know." Jared said, trying to contain the bubbling excitement that was rising in his throat.

 _"Good man."_ Ravenhead stated. _"I look forward to teaching you, Jared. See you in September."_

The sound of scraping plastic followed, with a few annoyed grunts, before the call ended and went to dial tone. Jared put the phone down, and very nearly fell over. His muscles felt like they were made of liquid. He wanted to sit down, but he couldn't do so just yet. He still needed to do one last thing.

He picked up the phone again, and dialled a series of numbers. He waited for someone to pick up. After several seconds of ringing Maisie answered, sounding almost as tired and sorrowful as he had been. Jared wondered if this was how he had sounded to Ravenhead, and whether that had effected the way he had spoken or not.

 _"Hello?"_ She asked.

"Maisie!" Jared stated quickly, barely able to contain his excitement. "We got in. We've been accepted onto the hero course!"

There was a strange sound, like a weak thud followed by clattering, as if someone had fallen over but their body had been made of weak plastic. A few seconds later Maisie answered him.

 _"Sorry, I dropped my phone."_ She said embarrassedly. _"Are you serious?"_

"Ravenhead called me." Jared told her. "The both of us have been accepted as extra students! We passed!"

Again, Maisie went quiet. Jared wasn't sure why she didn't respond. She couldn't be upset by this news. Was she trying to contain her excitement, as he had done? After a moment, she spoke up again.

 _"Jared…"_ She said quietly, awkwardly. _"…Thank you!"_

Jared was taken aback.

"Why are you thanking me?" He asked.

 _"Because you went with me."_ She said, just as quietly and just as awkwardly. _"I wouldn't have done it without you. Thank you for standing beside me!"_

Jared felt a small, embarrassed grin spread across his lips and push away his cheeks. He wasn't sure how to react to such a comment, but he could only hope that bliss and pride was the right sort of reaction.

"You're welcome." He said, trying not to laugh with ecstasy. "Our first day is on the first of September. I'm not sure what we're expect to do till then, but I suggest we keep working together. Let's prepare for the course as best we can!"

 _"Yes!"_ Maisie stated loudly, almost deafening Jared's ear. _"Let's meet up right now!"_

As Jared held the phone receiver away from his ear, the exited girl's shouts too loud to let close, he felt the first sensation of success that he had ever felt in his life. He had started on the road to becoming a hero. Everyone had said it was impossible, yet he'd finally been given the chance to prove himself. Though the small shadows of doubt that never left him alone were hoping that he wouldn't burn out before he could achieve his dream.


	9. Interlude I

**Alice Wreath**

* * *

She watched the situation unfold with baited breath from the safety of her living room, perched at the edge of her sofa. Her three year old son jumped up and down beside her, unable to sit still as the action filled the TV screen from the overhead view of a helicopter camera.

There had been a ruckus at the northern edge of Galafrei City. Several civilians had attempted to climb the London Wall. This had alarmed the police, who had immediately taken action to deal with the situation. This sort of scenario happened on occasion. The wall separated the two biggest cities in England, so naturally there would be a few souls crazy enough to scale it. Only this time a few dangerous figures had shown up, villains wielding hazardous Quirks looking to make trouble. So now the Hero Movement had been sent in to control them.

As Alice Wreath watched the news, the cameraman sat viewing the inciting incident from above zoomed in upon the arriving heroes. Among them was her husband, the omnipotent Progenitor Wreath. A selection of other well-known heroes stood beside him, facing the assaulting vandals and wall-climbers head on.

It didn't take long to end the fighting once the heroes had gotten involved. The Progenitor was astoundingly proficient. Every movement, every punch, every dodge was impossibly precise. Not a single action was wrongly timed or wrongly placed. He moved like a serpent through the environment, sliding through the cracks in his opponents defence with the grace, speed and accuracy of a cobra. When he was done, thirteen unconscious villains lay at his feet, twenty seven civilians had been detained, and the wall had been thoroughly secure. Anybody left untouched by the stoic fighters had enough smarts to leave the structure alone and scurry off in the direction which they'd come.

Alice let out a heavy sigh, and sat back in her seat. Beside her, her three year old son, Jared, continued to leap across the sofa, throwing his tiny body around like a ragdoll, no regard for safety. Alice had to grab his feet to stop him before he leapt over the back.

"Calm down, Jay." She chuckled, trying not to laugh at his energetic enthusiasm.

Jared was throwing punches and kicks all around, not looking at where he struck, all the while shouting "Yeah! Take that, villains! I'm a hero!"

Alice laughed. "You sure are." She grabbed him around the waist and pulling him towards her, sitting him on her lap, her arms wrapped around his fat stomach. The both of them watched the TV, as the action ended and the news helicopter began to back away, flying higher above the ground, providing the audience at home with a wide, panning shot of the scene. Several ambulances were arriving, pushing their way patiently through the encircling police vehicles which had been parked to prevent any climbers attempting to run. Eventually the view cut away to a camera crew on the ground, who were quickly yet cautiously approaching the heroes who had fought to save the day.

The interviewer confronted the Progenitor, who turned and looked at them with inscrutable eyes. The man of the hour was dressed in his hero's uniform; a formal black suit with a white shirt, a black faceless mask with a white hourglass symbol upon the forehead, black gloves and boots, black bowtie around the neck. Anything that resembled the details of a man was hidden under the thick clothing, leaving his features indefinable.

"Dad's so cool!" Jared exclaimed loudly, raising his arms up into the air. His shouting deafened out the questions of the interviewer, but Alice had learned to interpret what her husband was saying through his body and head movements. Her smile momentarily faded. She looked at her son, and instantly the smile returned.

"Your dad's the best!" She joined it, raising her own arms in a silly shrug. These were the best moments of raising a child so far. Joining in with their innocent playing gave her bliss beyond compare. She wanted this to last, but she knew it wouldn't. Children have to grow up eventually. Children have to become parents themselves one day. She knew she would be there for them no matter what, for whatever they needed, whenever they needed it.

From the small cot to the edge of the sofa her infant daughter began to giggle as she watched them. Baby Alexis was almost a year old. She and Jared shared a birthday on the same month. That had been her husband's idea. His family had always had children born in January. Jared's birthday was the first, which had been tricky enough to arrange in the first place, and the process had most certainly not been easy with the sound of New Year's fireworks in the background. Alexis had been a bit later, on the ninth. The process had been much smoother that time, though she had been told the first birth was usually the toughest. Alice looked at her daughter, her second born, and smiled with pride.

"I want a Quirk!" Jared shouted, as he attempted to wriggle out of his mother's grip and leap from the sofa. "I wanna be a hero!"

"You'll get your Quirk soon." Alice told him, managing to catch him before he fell off the furniture.

"I want one now!" Jared exclaimed, with the innocent yet demanding voice of a child who wanted to be like the men he saw on TV.

"Well, it's your birthday in a couple of months, isn't it?" She reminded him with an upbeat smile. "It won't be long after then that your Quirk shows up."

"Do the thing again!" Jared demanded, turning around on her lap to look her in the face. He had his father's green eyes. That always struck her so powerfully. Those bright green eyes. Alice shook her head at him, still smiling. His eagerness reminded her of her husband when they first met. The kind of eagerness found only in the innocent and young.

"Alright." She inhaled deeply, puffed up her throat and stated in the Progenitor's powerful voice. **"I have arrived in the nick of time! Stand down, villains, lest ye provoke my wrath!"**

Jared clapped wildly, as his mother stood up and lifted him into the air. He swam under the ceiling like a fish bellow the water's surface, waving his arms in a thoughtless, instinctive doggy paddle. Alice gripped him tightly under the arms, her steady hands securely clenching his small body. She swung him around in a full circle, all the while cheering with support and encouragement as she watched the young hero fly above her.

"I can fly!" Jared exclaimed with the purest delight.

"Look at him go!" Exclaimed Alice, using her normal voice once more as she joined in with Jared's adventure. "He's flying so high! How does he do it?"

From her cot, baby Alexis watched them, bubbles forming at her mouth as she tried to laugh and giggle and cheer along with them. She kicked her little feet and rolled about, wanting to play as well.

It didn't take much for Jared to get dizzy from the continuous aerial motion, and eventually he agreed to let his mother put him down. She was worn out from the exercise, though once her son recovered from his momentary nausea he seemed only too keen to get back up in the air again.

"No, not twice, sweetheart." Muttered Alice with a tired smile, lying backwards into the sofa with the grace of an elephant seal falling upon ice. She tried to ignore the pulling on her sleeve and the small kicks, but it was tough. "I can't do twice. Mummy's too tired."

"Please?" Jared asked with sweet, innocent, puppy eyes.

Alice was almost tempted. Though she remembered the many times he had used this on her before, and how exhausted she had been afterwards. She had to say no sometimes.

"Sorry, Sweetie. Not today." She groaned, retaining her smile.

Jared looked disheartened.

"Why don't you go upstairs and play with your toys?" She suggested, giving him a pat on the head. "Dad will be home later. You can tell him how cool he was then."

"Okay." Jared ran for the stairs, leaping up the steps like a large pink frog, jumping them one at a time because he couldn't quite manage two. Once he was out of sight, Alice breathed out. As much as she loved having children, she found it to be a lot of work. And people said that her husband's job was tough.

It was close to three in the afternoon. She knew that Jackson would be back by eight o'clock. That was the time he always came home by. He was unusually good with time; the only person she knew who could arrive at the exact second someone needed him. She wondered how he managed it, being both a hero and a parent.

Jackson returned at the exact moment it reached the hour. As the clock struck eight, he walked through the front door, his mask and gloves already absent from his body. He removed his suit blazer and placing it upon a clothes peg near the doorway. Before he had properly had a chance to enter the house, Jared came sprinting down the stairs, jumping over the last few steps, and charged at his father, arms wide. Jackson scooped him up and hugged him tightly.

"Daddy!" Jared exclaimed.

"Hey, Buddy." Said Jackson, scooping his son up and hugging him close to his chest. "How are you?"

"I was a superhero!" Jared said with excitement.

"Were you now?" Jackson asked rhetorically. He lowered his son back down on the ground.

"We saw you on TV." Alice told him, as she approached her husband, putting on a smile for the both of them.

"Oh, did you?" Jackson asked. In that moment his warm, welcoming grin disappeared just for a second. He turned to his son, and it reappeared like magic. "Daddy's had a long day. Would you mind giving him a rest for today, Jared?"

Jared looked saddened by the request. "Do I have to?" He asked.

"We'll play tomorrow. I promise." Jackson said.

Jared nodded with slight disappointment, and ran back upstairs. Once he was out of earshot, Jackson turned to his wife. The exaggerated and eager smiles on their faces were slowly fading into wrinkles of exhaustion, and the joy that had been perpetrated on their expressions was almost completely lost.

"You saw all that, huh?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah." Alice admitted. "It didn't look good. What happened?"

"I dunno. Just another attempt at a revolt, I think. A few wall climbers and some thugs taking advantage of them."

She sighed with mild relief. Every time her husband went out to fight some villain or rescue civilians from a catastrophe, Alice felt an almost primal fear for him. She knew that he could take care of himself, more than she or anyone they knew in fact, but she dreaded seeing the day that his impeccable timing would fail him, and he would take a hit he couldn't dish back out, or only just fail to move aside from that piece of falling rubble and be buried along with the citizens he was trying to save. She knew what he did was necessary, but that wouldn't stop her from worrying. If it was just her he had to come back to she wouldn't have threated so much. But he had a family now, children to raise. His son was growing quickly, eager to see his renowned father make it back in one piece, and his daughter, while only a year old, would benefit from knowing the man who had made her as well.

The two of them found themselves in their usual environment, sat upon the Livingroom sofa, a bottle of fine red wine upon the table and a glass held in hand, half full with the crimson liquid. Outside the sun was setting, its orange glow spreading through the half-open curtains. The dark winter was approaching already. Every year it seemed to get colder and darker, quicker and more severely. Alexis lay asleep in her cot beside the sofa, a small pink blanket covering her tiny body. The both of them relaxed, stretching their legs out in some form of attempt to regain a comfort which was long lost.

"Jared was watching." Alice told her husband after a few minutes of awkward silence had passed.

"Of course he was." Jackson said, not at all surprised. "Did he understand any of it?"

"No. He was just excited to see all those heroes in action." A short silence, before she added. "He was cheering you on."

They both gave a small chuckle, which quickly faltered away into an uncomfortable cough. Silence followed, as it always did. Years as a couple had led to this: momentary heart-to-heart conversations followed by almost eternal pauses. None of this happened because of a lack of love. Mostly it was caused by the difficulty of the situations they found themselves in. Situations that would be too tough to explain to the children.

"It's happening too often." Jared muttered.

"I know." Alice agreed.

"Too many young fools… too many wasted lives…" Jackson swallowed half his glass in one gulp. "We reap what we sew, Alice."

"Yeah." She said, in a voice that betrayed the fact that she had undergone this conversation many times. "It's all for the greater cause." She reminded him.

"Sometimes I wonder if we're worth it." Jackson muttered under his breath. She looked at him. "The human race." Jackson continued. Alice's glare quickly turned away.

"We have to believe we are." Alice whispered, sipping slowly from her own glass. "Otherwise why would anyone bother to do anything about it?"

"I suppose." Jackson agreed.

Another long, drawn out pause. Jackson refilled his glass, emptied it into his mouth, and then refilled it again. The bottle was half finished before he spoke again.

"There was this boy…" Jackson whispered, a hint of faulting nerves in his voice. "…One of the villains… the one swinging on the webs… I lost control, just for a moment… hit him a bit too hard." He sighed, eyes closed and head turned to the floor. "He's been taken to A&E with a broken jaw. I was only meant to incapacitate him."

"Everyone makes mistakes." Alice told him sympathetically, placing a comforting arm upon the shoulder of her spouse.

" _I_ don't." Jackson told her harshly. "I can't make mistakes. I lost focus just for a second, and in that time I sent a child to hospital. That can't happen again."

"No one else seemed to notice." Alice recalled seeing the cameras completely ignoring the arriving ambulances, one of which picked up a teenage boy with a bloodied face, assumedly the young man Jackson was referring too.

"They noticed." Jackson muttered. "They don't care, that's the problem. I'm a renowned hero, and he's just a criminal." Jackson sighed with pain. "He was just some kid who climbed a wall into another city... and I broke his jaw." She slammed his glass down hard upon the coffee table at his feel, causing the glass to crack with the impact. "That damned wall has caused more problems than it's solved!"

Alice remained quiet. There wasn't much she could say. These moments happened from time to time, and it was better for her husband to let it all out away from their son. Jared didn't need to see any of this. She didn't want to destroy his dream like that.

"I can't keep making these mistakes, Alice." Jackson continued, looking his wife in the eyes. He looked so much older than her, though they were around the same age. His black hair was detailed with grey, and his eyes were becoming a more faded green with each passing month.

"You shouldn't beat yourself up so much." She told him. "Even heroes make mistakes."

"I cannot risk it." Jackson stated, his disappointment in himself verging into a concerning form of verbal self-flagellation. "Not out there. If I screw up, people get hurt. If people get hurt, I have to pay for it. If I have to pay for it, you and the kids also suffer. It's a sequence that's happened to better men than me."

"That's coming from the number one hero in the UK." Alice said, trying to assert some pride into the conversation. Jackson just shrugged.

"It's just a number." He told her discouragingly.

Another millennia long silence, several sips of wine and an empty bottle later, before he spoke again, saying his final piece for the night.

"I don't want him to be like me."

Alice looked at him. "Who? Jared?"

Jackson nodded slowly. "I hope he never becomes like me."

"He adores you." Alice told him honestly. "He wants to be just like you when he grows up. All he ever talks about is being a hero."

"He doesn't deserve to be like me." Jackson stated a little too loudly.

He looked at his wife, who wore an expression of disbelief. "Would you really destroy our child's dreams, just like that?"

Jackson gave her a solemn look, the kind worn by a man who had seen many terrible things, who knew that the cycle would only be passed down to the next generation if they weren't careful enough to stop it.

"If it saved him from this…" He said quietly, "Then yes, I would."

Alice closed her eyes, sighing sadly. "He may be your son, but that doesn't mean he will have the same experiences as you. In a few months' time he'll be four, and by then his Quirk will have shown up. He might have your Quirk, he might have mine, or he might have a brand new one. We should have hope in him. He doesn't have to be like you. That choice will be up to him."

Jackson looked at his wife. He gave her a weak smile, though its edge was wilting like a dead tree,

"No one deserves to be like me." He muttered.

Alice looked at her husband. There was much to him that the public didn't know, much that even she didn't know. The man was mysterious, uninterpretable, unknown. Out of everyone on the planet, she was the people who knew the most about him.

 _'No…'_ she thought sympathetically. _'Considering what you've been through, her really doesn't deserve that."_


	10. Chapter 8 - The First Day at BHA

**Jared Wreath**

* * *

His bedroom was a mess. Clothing was littered across the floor in untidy piles, thrown aside as he had rummaged through his drawers. This would be his first day at a school for heroes, and he wanted to make a good impression. He had been excited for this moment ever since Ravenhead's phone call a month prior. He and Maisie had been talking nonstop since hearing the news. The both of them were over the moon to be enrolled on the course.

Since then, Maisie had been working hard to rebuild the stun gun. She had been forced to replace most of the pieces after Silver Streak had destroyed it, but the phone battery had at least still been intact. The other parts were not so expensive to replace. In addition to this she had also been visiting a small forge nearby her house, where she was able to make some more professional improvement. She had create a more efficient projectile for the weapon. What had once been a pair of small metal prongs had been replaced by finely crafted steel barbs. As for the exterior, the metal casing had been replaced with a more resilient and sturdy iron shell which absorbed less heat and, with the assistance of the rubber layer around it, would not conduct electricity either. Within a week the latest edition of Jared's stun gun was finished. The last time they had spoken, Maisie had told him that she would be making a few small additions to the stun gun, and that it would be ready for him by the first. He had not heard from her since.

As he was preparing to leave his bedroom door was swung open. His father stood there, tall, overbearing and unimpressed. Jared almost groaned. Immediately the feelings of pride and excitement died away. Since learning of Jared's enrolment on the hero course at BHA, his father had mostly been quiet on the subject. The few times he became vocal always ended in disagreement and a massive argument. Today would not be any different.

"Are you really going through with this?" He asked, his voice and expression betraying no human emotions. Jared didn't look at him. There was no point in acknowledging him. He would continue on whatever tangent he was about to go on whether Jared payed attention or not. "You could at least give me a one word answer." Mr Wreath continued.

"Yes." Jared said with annoyance, as he attempted to pack his bag with everything he would need: his phone, his wallet, a diary, a book to write in, a couple of black ink pens and a calculator if necessary. All the vital stuff. He already had a bag full of sports clothes readied on his bed, which he had prepared the night before.

Jackson Wreath nodded slowly, still stationed by the open doorway with his head low.

"Jared…" He said slowly. "I told you not long ago that I did not feel you were right for being a hero…" Jared paused mid motion. He didn't expect anything helpful to be said next. "That opinion has not changed…" Jackson continued with the same hopeless tone. "However… as your father, I am obligated to support you and… and I wish you luck today."

Jared turned to look at the man. Each and every day he seemed a little older. The wrinkles on his face were like vast canyons, and his hair was a pale grey shade, almost none of the original black remained. His green eyes were pale with thin irises. He seemed so ancient for a man in his forties.

"Obligated?" He repeated. He gave his father an offended look. "Is that how you see this? You're _obligated_ to support me. You won't do it because you believe in me, only because I'm your son?"

"I meant it differently." Jackson tried to say, though he didn't sound especially apologetic. "I cannot support your choice, but I will not try and stop you."

Jared sighed angrily. "Can you not be happy for me, just for once?" He asked sourly. "I finally get a chance to achieve my dream, the one you encouraged me to follow since I was tiny, and you can't do anything other than wish me luck?"

"You're not good enough to be a hero, Jared." Jackson stated heartlessly. "I'm sorry, but that's the way the world is. I tried to let you down gently. Quirkless people can't be heroes. It doesn't matter if you try or not. You will never be skilled enough to perform the tasks heroes are expected to face."

Jared slammed his foot on the ground, breathing heavily in fury. He stood up, bags in hand, and turned to his father.

"If mum was here she would support me." He stated in his heated mood.

His father closed his eyes. For a moment there was a tiny flicker of emotion within them. That emotion was quickly subdued by his usual calm, conserved demeanour.

"If your mother was here she would tell you the same thing." Jackson stated, using the same voice he put on as the progenitor. "If you continue on this course you will get yourself hurt. Behaving arrogantly and aggressively towards me will not change my opinion on this."

Jared glared at him with wide and enraged eyes. Could this many truly not emote, even for a second? Was resorting to playing the Progenitor with his eldest son really the only way he could portray emotion? He took a step forward, and to his mild surprise the progenitor stepped out of his way. Before Jared could pass, however, the tall, grey haired man held out a hand in front of him.

"If you wish to keep up this game then I will not stop you." He looked down upon the boy. Their eyes met, his furious green opposing his calm pale. "But I will not be helping you either. If you wish to become a hero, you will have to prove yourself by your own merits. I will not be driving you to the site of the academy, nor will I be helping you with your training or homework or anything else which you may ask of me. You are no longer allowed to use my gym, and I will make sure that Petra is aware of this. If you are to succeed on this course, you must do so by yourself. I will not be here to get you out of trouble every time you make a mistake and I will not give you advice when you ask for it. In this world, a hero who cannot take care of himself is not a hero at all. Is that understood?"

Jared didn't answer him. He gave his father a cold glare, before ducking under his arm and walking downstairs into the living room. He didn't see his father's expression as he left. The man still stood there, looming over his doorway like a pale gargoyle. Jared didn't want to know what thoughts were going through that man's head. He suspected they would only make him feel worse. The nerve of the man, to demand that Jared figure everything out by himself. He would not even offer support. Was that not something that parents were supposed to do unconditionally? The man had no emotions whatsoever. He didn't even seem to feel love, not for his Quirkless first born. Jared was certain that the man was not human. He couldn't be. No human behaved like that.

As Jared was quickly preparing a bowl of cereal for his breakfast, he heard a series of eager footsteps rushing down the first floor hallway, which then lead to several thuds as someone jumped down the steps. His younger brother Julian turned the corner into the wide kitchen, still wearing his pyjamas, his small feet slipping upon the clean tiles.

Julian looked like a smaller, skinnier version of Jared, with the same black hair and green eyes that ran within their father's family. Yet unlike Jared, Julian had a much more excitable personality. Their father seemed to spend more time with the younger of the brothers, as he would often have quiet conversations with the boy away from the rest of the family. Jared suspected that his father was trying to raise Julian to become a hero like himself. That angered Jared more than anything. He didn't hate Julian for this. The boy didn't really want to be a hero. He would rather draw, and his main goal in life was to be a cartoonist. What angered Jared was his father's inability to see the desires of his children past his own wants. He had one child who did want to be a hero who he would constantly discourage, and another who didn't want to be a hero who he was trying to force into the role.

Julian skidded into the far wall and bounced off as if it were a cushion. He smiled at his older sibling, his ten year old grin full of weak teeth and several gaps.

"Morning, Jay!" He exclaimed happily.

Jared smiled back, always happy to see his younger brother in such a lively mood.

"Morning, Jules." He said back, perking up a bit now that his father was out of the way.

"I wanted to see you off!" Julian shouted. He sprinted across the slippery surface, sliding upon his heels, and hugged his brother around the waist. "I heard you and dad talking. I know he doesn't like you being a hero, but I want you to know that I'm proud of you!"

Jared felt his heart melt slightly.

"Thanks, Julian." He whispered, and patted his younger brother's head. "That means a lot."

"I know you can do it!" Julian exclaimed. "I believe in you. I don't care if you're Quirkless! You can be our hero!"

Jared hugged his brother back. Such simple words from a young mind. It filled him with temporary warmth. But sadly he knew that, no matter how much Julian believed in him, it would not guarantee his success. That was the one thing his father was right about. If Jared wanted to reach his goal of becoming a hero, he would have to focus and work towards it himself. He could not rely on other people to get him there. He slowly plucked his brother's arms from around his chest and lowered him to the ground.

"Jules-"

"I did a drawing of you!" Julian stated suddenly, with a mouth that moved faster than a bullet train. He reached into his pyjama pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Jared. The older brother took it and opened it up. On the page was a surprisingly well-drawn sketch of him, wearing his blue hoodie and standing on a field of grass. He had his fists clenched and held above his head, while face down behind him were a series of villains and criminal types lying in a defeated pile. On Jared's lips a small smile broke out. He looked back at his brother, cheeks flushing pink.

"It's awesome, Jules." He said with a moved smile. "I'll take this with me, so I never forget who I'm supported by."

Julian smiled back with delight. "I'm glad you like it!" He hugged his brother again, and then rushed off to the Livingroom before Jared could even tell what had happened. "Tell me about the course when you get back." His voice echoed through the Livingroom doorway as he disappeared past it.

Jared looked down at the drawing once more. While it wasn't as obvious or dramatic as a crowd of people cheering his name, this one small act of sibling love was just as powerful. It gave Jared enough confidence to make the walk to the academy, which his father had very nearly drained from him. While his old man would never provide any encouragement, Jared was reminded that his siblings would. So long as he held on to that fact, he would be able to keep his head focused upon his goal. He folded the drawing up, placed it in his bag and left for the academy.

* * *

It took Jared an hour to walk from his home to the Academy grounds. The address of the site had been given to him in an email from the headmaster, one M. D. Broadhurst. The email had also mentioned that all students were expected to dress in casual yet clean clothing and arrive at the academy before nine in the morning. Without his father to drive him there, Jared had to leave early. He couldn't catch a bus because of Quirkless Laws, and even if he did no busses headed in the direction of the academy. He had no choice but to walk, and hopefully he would make it on time.

The journey took him from the suburbs to the outskirts of the city, which was always unnervingly barren of life. Most people chose to live closer to the city's centre, though there were a few who liked the desolate quiet of the countryside. Most of the buildings Jared saw were rundown and abandoned, absent of life for what could be decades. Further out of the city, upon the raised hills to the west, he could see a series of fields lined up along the grassy horizon. In some of them were cows or sheep, in others rows of wheat. Jared wondered how they survived out there, so far from the city centre. He supposed that the produce they made earned enough for them to survive on, and food probably wasn't a problem for a farmer. They probably also made a healthy profit from their produce. Everyone needs to eat, after all.

It was eight fifty-five when Jared finally saw the walls of the academy ahead of him. He was already running late. With little time to get there, he ran as fast as he could down the dirt road, almost tripping over himself, until he reached the large brick building at the front of the academy.

It seemed that he was one of the last people to arrive, as within the yard outside of the academy stood a large crowd of people, students like Jared who were waiting for the academy to open and welcome them inside. He was surprised by how small the crowd was. There couldn't be much more than forty people standing around. A lot of them were of a similar age to him by the looks of it, but some of the others were much older. There were a few unusual looking characters among them. As he approached he noticed a boy with a hairless dog's head, a reptilian girl, a woman with pale grey skin and hair, a boy covered in long spines and a rather terrifying looking man with a massive clay-like body. Most of the enrolled students seemed normal enough with maybe one or two unusual details, such as bright blue hair or an extra eye. Jared reminded himself not to acknowledge any of these details in conversation, certainly not in an insulting way. This would not help him make a good impression.

Most of the waiting crowd seemed to be standing quietly on their own, just within a large group of people doing exactly the same. Most crowds are like this when you stop to think about it. There were some small groups chatting away in certain corners, though the conversations were not especially lively, and only occasionally did someone giggle or chuckle at a joke. Like Jared they were all nervous and tense. This didn't exactly comfort Jared too much, however. He could tell from a glance that he was the only Quirkless person present. Everyone else had something that stood out, whether it was in their physicality, their body language or the way they spoke. None of them were feeling the sudden and unexpected sensation of imposter syndrome. He felt like a sheep in wolf's clothing, and soon enough the pack would sniff him out.

"Jared." Came a quiet hiss. Jared turned, and to his relief he spotted Maisie standing near the wall, away from the main group of students. He quickly hurried over to her, not grateful enough for encountering the one person he knew among the crowd. He noticed she had also made an attempt to improve her look. She was wearing a brand new summer dress of a slightly greenish yellow colour, with purple flowers patterned upon the long skirt. It looked much better on her than the slightly darker, dirtier dress she had been wearing the month before. Her hair was loosely hanging across her shoulders, and in the sunlight it shined an almost dark red colour. Jared was surprised by how pretty she looked. He had to admit, she had caught his eye in a way he had not noticed before.

"Hey Maisie." He whispered quietly back, nervous of the surrounding crowd not far from them. "How long have you been standing out here?"

"Thirty Minutes." She whispered back. "There were only five others when I got here. Now there's about thirty more." She paused and looked at him nervously. "I was too anxious to try talking to anyone. Do you think they'll like us?"

"I hope so." Jared muttered back. He didn't want to admit it, but he had his doubts. His previous experiences with students weren't good ones. Most people were assholes, by choice or by nature. That was how he understood the world. "We'll have to wait and see."

The both of them stood there by the wall, waiting under its cold shadow as the morning sun began to heat up the city. For a few minutes more the crowd waited, chatting and shuffling there feet, trying to get to know each other in small and awkward ways.

Jared looked at his phone. "It's ten passed nine." He groaned. "How long are they going to keep us waiting?"

Maisie began to tap her foot anxiously. Her thin legs were shivering as the cold air began to bother her, and her skin was shuddering with goose bumps. She was getting more and more nervous by the minute. Jared was also beginning to feel his anxiety rising. Being left to stand around and wait was getting to him. If the teachers didn't show up soon he feared he would collapse from the strain.

"Do you think we'll be in Ravenhead's class?" Maisie wondered aloud, her hands tugging at the bottom of her dress in some attempt to stretch it down over her cold legs.

"I don't know." Jared said. "I expect they'll-"

"Oh, I forgot!" Maisie exclaimed suddenly, interrupting him mid-sentence. Jared jumped at the sudden exclamation, almost biting his tongue.

"Forgot what?" He asked, heart jumping from the shock.

"Hold on a second." Maisie insisted. She reached into her bag and began rummaging around inside with her right hand, her arm digging through the contents like an arcade claw machine trying to pick up a large fluffy toy. A second later she pulled it back out, and gripped between her fingers was the stun gun the both of them had been working on, new and improved. "I made a few changes" She said as she passed the weapon across to him. "What do you think?"

Jared looked at the device. She had indeed made a few small changes. The metal exterior has been painted with a shiny blue overcoat, which made the gun shimmer like sunlight on water. A soft leather handle had been attached to the device, so that Jared could grip the weapon properly with less of a risk of dropping it. Finally a small letter J had been printed onto the left side of the weapon, written in capital characters with a slight flick upon the tail.

"I wanted to personalise it for you." She admitted shyly. "I wasn't sure what you would want, so I painted it the same colour as your hoodie, and the smiths at the forge helped me carve the J on." She gave him a nervous smile. "Do you like it?"

Jared looked back at her. For a moment his expression was blank, with a faint hint of surprise. Then, like the separation of two tectonic plates, Jared's lips widened into a proud grin. "Maisie, I love it" He exclaimed quietly.

"You do?" She squeaked with surprise and joy.

"Yeah, it's fantastic! You did a good job."

Maisie clapped her hands together with delight. "I'm so glad. I wasn't sure what shade of blue to use, so I just went with a normal shade. I assumed blue was your favourite colour." She admitted.

"Well, if we want to be specific, my favourite colour is electric blue, but normal blue is just as good." Jared said, still smiling. "Thanks for this, Maisie."

Maisie blushed, unable to contain her joy.

"Well, I wouldn't have made it if you weren't working with me." She tried to encourage him in return, though it didn't quite work. He looked back at him, and suddenly her smile faded. She looked awkwardly at the space to the far right of Jared's head. "Uh…" She muttered.

Jared noticed her uncomfortable staring, and followed her gaze. He slowly turned around, and almost jumped out of his skin upon seeing the ghostly boy leaning over his shoulder. It gave him a grin as their eyes met, and chuckled as the frightened teenager exclaimed in surprise.

"Got ya!" It shouted humorously. "The look on your face!"

Jared, in his breathless state, wanted to say something in response, yet his lungs were currently collapsing in upon themselves like a camping tent which had lost its flexible spine. The only noise he could manage to make was a strange, sort of whimpering hiss that escaped through the gaps of his vocal chords and rubbed upon the back of his neck and out through his nose.

Another boy walked up beside the ghostly boy. He looked exactly the same as the spirit, except he was not see-through and grey and levitating an inch above the ground. He had short blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, behind which was a glimmer of jokester personality. He was carrying a grey jacket around his waist, having removed it while standing in the sun.

"Oh don't mind him. He likes scaring new people." The boy told them, a small grin on his face.

Jared and Maisie looked at him awkwardly. The eerily similar boys looked back. Then the human one rolled his eyes with realisation.

"Sorry, I should introduce myself." He apologised, and held out a hand. "Tate Anderson." The boy announced with confidence.

"Hi." Jared said uncomfortably. He reached out to shake the hand, wanting to be polite, only for the ghostly boy's hand to take it instead and begin swinging it up and down sharply. Jared grunted with surprise.

"Nice to meet ya!" The ghostly boy stated with a massive grin full of pale teeth.

It took a lot of strength for Jared to break free of his grip. For a ghostly figure, the boy had a lot of strength. The two boys laughed at him, Tate doing so in a more casual and human manner, while Mitchell laughed maniacally and with exaggerated malice.

"His name is Mitchell." Tate told them, as his ghostly duplicate returned to his side. "Well, aren't you going to tell us your names then?" The boy asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

Jared's lips opened and closed a few times as he tried to react to the strange actions of the two boys stood before him.

"I'm Jared…" Jared managed to say, before he was interrupted by Mitchell who flew over to Maisie and shoved his face right into hers.

"And you are?" He demanded loudly, with a cheeky yet slightly flirtatious wink. Maisie blinked back in surprise.

"Maisie Collard." She said quietly.

Mitchell backed away again, though his eyes did not look away from Maisie. This made her feel uncomfortable, and she began to nervously shuffle her feet in an attempt to move away.

"You two are brothers, then?" Jared asked.

"Duh." Tate said with a chuckle. "We're twins." He paused, then added "Well, technically."

"Technically?" Jared asked.

Tate swiped a finger between him and his ghostly brother. "Mitchell isn't a real person. He's my Quirk." He explained.

Jared and Maisie looked at him confused. "So, is he like a clone or an illusion?" Maisie asked.

"Not really." Tate tried to clarify. "He's sort of like a clone, except he thinks for himself and has his own personality. As well as that, he can move through walls and levitate, which I cannot do. We can't move away from each other, though." He lifted his red t-shirt up, as did Mitchell, to reveal that the both of them had an opaque grey rope leading from their belly button like an ethereal umbilical cord. Jared and Maisie looked at it with mild disgust.

"Our life is an eternal tug of war." Mitchell joked, as he yanked the cord sharply. Tate nearly fell over from the single movement of his ghostly Quirk, and he yanked back, giving Mitchell as good as he had gotten.

"And you two?" Tate asked, as he stood back up, straightening his t-shirt out with his left hand while gripping Mitchell's ear tightly with his right. The ghost winced in pain, and chose to behave to avoid further punishment.

Maisie and Jared looked at one another. They weren't sure if this strange young man and his ethereal twin were the right sort of person to make friends with. He seemed all too eager to get to know them, which raised a few small alarm bells in Jared's head. He doubted the boy would do anything especially dangerous or annoying, though his companion appeared to be an eager trickster, and talking to them any longer might only encourage him to act out.

"We'd rather not say." Jared told him after a second.

Tate looked disappointed. "Oh, really?" He shrugged. "Well, fine, I can't make you. We'll be studying together anyway, so I'll find out soon enough."

"He's rather looking forward to finding out what your Quirk is." Mitchell said suddenly, his eyes focused on Maisie. He gave her another sly wink, which she completely missed.

"Sorry?" She said.

"Mitchell!" Tate snapped quietly. His brother looked at him, annoyed for being told off. Tate looked at Maisie, embarrassed. "Ignore him. He does what he likes."

Maisie nodded slowly, looking back and forth between the two brothers. She was about to open her mouth and respond, when a sudden deafening sound emanated across the yard. The four of them, Mitchell included, reached to cover their ears from the booming, screeching, pulsating, vibrating sound that seeming came from nowhere. The entire crowd of students did the same. It lasted only for a few seconds, yet it achieved its effect of silencing everyone.

"May I have your attention, everyone!"

The crowd turned towards the main building, all attention now focused upon the speaker. Before the large red doorway stood several figures, dressed in black suits and white shirts with red ties hanging from their necks. One of those figures was unmistakably Ravenhead, dressed uncomfortably in his sleeveless brown waistcoat and trousers. Most of the others Jared did not recognise, with the exception of Aries who was stood directly to the right of Ravenhead, and Silver Streak who was several people to Ravenhead's left. Most of them were wearing some form of suit or dress, though one man at the far right end was wearing a doctor's coat, with several medical utensils stuffed into his breast pocket. At the very head of the group, a foot shorter than the rest, was a small woman in a grey business suit. She smiled at everyone through a mouth of lipstick and eyes detailed by eyeliner.

"Thank you for your patience this morning. We apologise for the delay, as there were a few small things to sort out." She stated, her voice like soft silk. "Before we start, I would like to congratulate every one of you for passing the entrance exam and being enrolled upon our hero training course. I admire every single one of you for putting your foot forward and doing the best you could to show us your raw potential.

"She looks like a mime." Mitchell whispered into his brother's ear. Tate chuckled quietly, and Jared gave them both a sharp look.

The small woman gave a rigid bow, and stood straight once more with her arms wide in a welcoming gesture. "Some of you may be asking who I am. I would not be surprised of you did, as I am not from these parts. I am Destiny Broadhurst, the number seventeen hero in North America and third daughter of Earl Broadhurst, owner of Broadhurst Banks. You may all refer to me as Madam, however."

She pointed an arm behind her towards the large buildings and the brick wall surrounding them. "This academy is my child, and I aim to raise my child the way any good mother ought to; through nurture, support and regulation. I aim to make this academy one of the greatest in the whole of the United Kingdom. This will only be possible with your help, however. As you are no doubt already aware, our academy makes no money from its students. Any funding we receive comes from my own pockets, and from the vaults of my family's bank, though we do accept donations from the public." She gave a small, awkward chuckle, as silence followed her statement. She continued with a tense cough. "Unlike other academies through the country, we have a goal of inclusivity. We aim to allow anyone from any background a chance to become a hero. I wish for this academy to be a place where anyone from anywhere with any Quirk may be able to learn how to be a person capable of saving and protecting others. Money, Class, Disability, even those with dangerous Quirks are welcomed here as students, as long as you show promise. We ask not that you pay a hefty sum for a year's worth of training, only that you do the best you can to reach your goal of becoming a hero! This is our schools motto. In order to change the world, we first have to _break the mould_."

There was a chorus of clapping from both the listening crowd of students and the teachers stood beside her. Jared noticed that Ravenhead winced very slightly at her recital of the motto.

"Now, on to the course itself." Madam Destiny Broadhurst continued. "In order to manage the subjects properly all students will be split into two classes. Students under twenty years of age will be placed within Class Junior, while students over twenty will be placed in Class Senior. Both classes will be taking the same lessons, but at different times and on different days with different teachers. As this academy is a further education college and not a high school, there will be no expectation for students to study maths or English to a further degree. All lessons will be focused upon training and studying the art of heroism in both the modern world and past. Lessons include…"

She pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket, and quickly read through it.

"…Physical Education, Geography, Law, History of Quirks and Heroes, Quirk Law and Criminal Psychology."

She put away the paper, looking back up at the listening crowd.

"Class Junior will be taught by Mr. Victorsson, Mr. Morse and Mr. Mikhaelov, while Class Senior will be taught by Mr. Jensen and Miss. Osbourne."

She paused, and looked at the figures stood beside her.

"And, I believe that is everything." She said after a second. "I welcome you all to Broadhurst Heroism Academy, and wish you all the best of luck in your training. I will leave the rest to Mr. Victorsson and Mr. Jensen."

As the principal of BHA stepped back away from the crowd, Ravenhead and Silver Streak both stood forwards, a metre or so between them, neither wanting to acknowledge the other with a displeased glance.

"Would all students under twenty years of age please follow me?" Ravenhead stated, speaking over Silver Streak who was making a similar announcement for the Senior Class.

The crowd dispersed, forming two separated groups at the front of the building before the respective teachers. The larger of the two was made up of the younger figures who had been waiting for the school to open.

"In we go." Maisie muttered with nervous excitement. Jared smiled back at her, looking just as nervous. The both of them walked forward to join the group, with Tate following behind and Mitchell floating at his side. The three of them stood at the back, as the students of Class Junior were rounded up by the horned hero and one of the other teachers. Ravenhead stood at the front of the group, and with a swift turn headed into the building. The students followed closely behind.

* * *

Jared looked around in awe at the interior of the building. The academy's main building was nothing like the one of his secondary school. Its walls were tall and painted like a sunrise, transitioning from pale orange at the floor to sky blue at the roof. The roof was a towering four metres high, with lines of bright hanging lights dangling above the heads of the passing students. The floor was matted with a soft red carpet, which gave him a sensation of importance, as if he were a respected celebrity arriving at an important event. Adding to this feeling were the large picture frames that had been nailed up along the hallway. Most of them were empty, awaiting new photographs to be contained within, a souvenir of treasured memories. There were a few frames that did have photos in, however. Many of them depicted Madam Broadhurst through different stages of her life, achieving different awards. In one of them she was twelve years old, and had just won a hockey game for her school team. In another she was twenty, and had just captured her first criminal. In an especially unusual one she was standing with the current Prime Minister of Great Britain, Argyle Brant, her arm wrapped around his back as she couldn't quite reach his shoulder. The man stood an impressive two feet taller than her, and he did not seem at all impressed by the medal she was holding.

"Got a bit of an ego, hasn't she." Tate muttered, not to any one in particular. Mitchell chuckled at this, though Tate didn't pay him any attention.

Jared felt a small lump shoot up into his throat. The anxiety of his first day at a new school – one for training heroes no less – was starting to get to him. He could feel his muscles clenching. He wanted to vomit, though that most certainly would not make a good impression. He turned to Maisie, and she looked just as nerve wracked a he. A small part of his brain wanted him to turn back and get out of this situation, but he steeled himself as best he could. He wasn't going to turn back now, not when he was already here. He had to prove to his father that he could do this by himself. He had to become the hero his brother saw him as.

As he looked around, he almost bumped into the spiny boy in front of him, and very nearly poked his eye out. The boy looked back and apologised. He then turned and nearly walking into the girl in front of him, scraping the back of her neck with a shoulder spine. She turned and cursed at him, and the boy apologised again.

After passing two red doors, Ravenhead stopped as he reached a third and with a wrinkled set of fingers he gripped the long handle and turn it downwards. With a push of his shoulder he opened the door, and stepped into the class room beyond. As the class entered, Jared got a glimpse of the sign above the door. 'Red-3'. The two they had passed were also labelled Red, though they had the numbers 1 and 2. Jared assumed that these would be the Junior Classrooms.

The room had walls of a brilliant white shade, and four rows of eight desks and chairs, with one large desk at the very front and a whiteboard on the wall behind. Ravenhead and his two teacher companions took up places by the desk, Ravenhead choosing to stand while Aries and the other teacher choosing to sit upon the seat and the desk respectively.

"If you would all find a seat…" requested Aries as the class entered the room.

Jared watched as quickly the desks were eagerly taken one by one, leaving only a few places left by the time he chose to move. Most of the desks towards the back had been occupied, though he managed to grab a seat near the far edge of the room upon the third row. Maisie took the seat to his right, which he was glad of. He wouldn't have to worry about being sat next to someone he didn't know. Unfortunately Tate had decide to sit in the seat right behind her, which Maisie looked a little uncomfortable about. Jared had noticed that his eyes barely looked away from her, and when she was facing the other way they would often wander downward towards her skirt.

Once every member of the class – except for Mitchell – had sat down, the teachers of Class Junior began to talk once more.

"Good morning everyone." Ravenhead stated enthusiastically, with the energy of a man who knew how to deal with mornings. "…and welcome to your first year as students at Broadhurst Heroism Academy. You may already know me by my hero name, Ravenhead. As of school policy, I would request that you all refer to me as Mr. Victorsson from now on, as while I work here I am a teacher first and a hero second. I will be teaching you Quirk Law and History of Quirks and Heroes."

As he finished speaking, the hero Aries sat up and nodded at the class.

"My name is Mr. Morse, though I am also known as Aries. In case you didn't meet me during the entrance exam, I am the number fourteen hero in the UK. I will be teaching Law and Criminal Psychology."

The third teacher, who was currently lying upon the desk like a male model, sat up sharply after Aries pinched him in the neck. He gave a small yelp and sat up straight, smiling at the class with a wide, cheeky grin.

"Vat's up?" He asked, his Russian accent thicker than snow. "I am Niko Mikhaelov, also known as the hero Dubstep, and I'm the number tventy-seven hero in Russia. You can all call me Mr. Mikhaelov, however." He paused, then added "Or Mr. Dubs, vichever you prefer."

"Mr. Mikhaelov will be teaching you Geography." Aries interrupted quickly. The Russian hero known as Dubstep gave him a bitter look. "And the three of us together will be teaching you Physical Education."

"We should start with the register, before we jump into anything else." Ravenhead stated. He picked up a laminated sheet from the table and ran his black eyes down the page. He leaned against the table, his finger skimming down the words upon the paper as his eye followed its movement. "We'll do this very simply, shall we?" He said. "When I read your name out, simply say 'here', okay?"

The class nodded, and Ravenhead began his reading of the register.

"Tate Anderson."

Jared shrunk in his seat. Of course the bothersome boy was called first. That only gave him a chance to talk. Tate raised his hand up, and Mitchell followed suit.

"I'm here, and so is Mitchell." He stated loudly. The ghostly brother waved at everyone, and the class looked at them both with mild bemusement.

"How y'all doing?" He asked.

"I see." Said Ravenhead, unperturbed by the words of the twins. Evidently he'd already met them, and already knew how annoying they would try and be. He continued to read out the names upon the paper, ignoring the attempts at humour that the boy and his sentient Quirk were making. "Niall Archer… George Asher… Victoria Brail… Maisie Collard-"

"Here." Maisie shouted, raising her hand. Several heads turned to stare at her. She quickly slumped back into her seat, embarrassed by the looks they were giving her.

The list went on through the names of students, each answering with a nod or a 'here' or a 'yes, sir' in response. Jared began to bite his lip. As the list grew closer to his name he felt a sudden rise of panic in his gut. He had just realised something he had not thought about before. Almost certainly someone in the class would recognise his surname. Maisie had, and she didn't seem to care much about the current top heroes in the country. Wreath was not exactly a common surname either. There was no doubt in his mind that they would all immediately realise who his father was. How they would react upon realising this, he didn't know, but it probably wouldn't do any good for him.

"Ty Urban… Anny Volksmarcher… Freya Westergaard… Aaren Whitley…" Ravenhead paused, his eyes spotting Jared from his seat at the desk. The moment he had been dreading was about to arrive. "Jared Wreath."

There was a sudden surprised silence from the class. Slowly Jared's hand rose up above the row of heads surrounding him.

"Here." He said in a quiet, timid voice.

His worst fear came to pass, as every student in the room turned to look at him. He could see their eyes staring at him, judging, examining, studying his shape, his every detail. The urge to vomit returned once more, yet much stronger. He closed his eyes again, not wanting to be seen. The room was quiet for a second, and then finally someone asked the question that everyone was thinking.

"Wreath?" asked a boy with a pair of moth wings protruding from his upper spine, who sat at the far right of the front row. "As in _Progenitor Wreath_?"

"Yeah." Muttered Jared.

"Are you related to the Progenitor?" Asked a girl from the second row, who had blue hair and strange circular pulsating violet rings around her elbow and shoulder joints.

"Yeah." Jared muttered again.

The room fell silent once more, this time a much deeper, more judgemental silence. _Oh god_ , Jared thought, _Just move on already_. His stomach was churning wildly. He could feel his breakfast preparing to rise back up.

The silence continued, only to then be broken by one of the boys sat at the back of the room.

"You don't look like much."

Jared looked up sharply. _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ He wondered furiously. He turned to realise to his shock that it was not Tate or Mitchell who had spoken. Instead it was a tall boy who looked not much different to Jared. He had short black hair that was barely an inch in length, and small blue eyes that stared judgementally back at him. He tugged at the collar of his blue jacket.

"I would've expected a child of the progenitor to look rather more menacing." The boy continued.

Jared chose not to respond to him, though he really wanted to. He knew from years of experience that responding to bullies would only encourage them to attack you more. Though there were some cases where this didn't work. He could remember one very awful boy in his secondary school who had used his speed Quirk to continuously trip Jared over. Jared didn't react once, he merely stood himself back up and continued walking, but the boy would carry on doing the same thing each and every day. For whatever reason it made him laugh. Jared supposed that sometimes people didn't need a reason or a reward to be an asshole.

He turned back around, only to be confronted by another of the students. The girl in front of him had turned around and was leaning towards him from her seat. She was the reptilian girl Jared had noticed as he entered the academy grounds. She did indeed look very much like reptile, with light green scales running down her arms, neck and the side of her head. Her face itself was mostly normal, though her nose was slightly pointed, her pupils were slit shaped and a tuft of long red hair at the top of her head formed a short fringe and ponytail which ran down to the nape of her neck. Her nails were long, curved and pointy, similar to Ravenhead's talons except hers were grey in colour and much larger in shape. She even had a tail, which was protruding through the gap in her seat and swinging wildly from side to side. It struck Jared's knees a couple of times, though he wasn't sure if that was purposeful or not.

She viciously shoved a piece of paper in Jared's face as he turned around, nearly giving his nose a paper cut.

"Could you sign this?" She asked quickly.

Jared blinked and looked at the paper. It took him a second to realise that the paper was actually a poster, portraying the image of Progenitor Wreath in a very heroic pose, his iconic mask and hourglass logo covering his face. Jared looked back at the girl, feeling a small twinge of anger in his heart. Even here he could not escape his father's shadow.

"I'd rather not." He told her.

The girl looked upset. "P-lease!" She insisted, puffing out her lips in a pouty expression. This didn't have the effect she was hoping for. The edges of her thin lips separated to display the much sharper than normal teeth within her mouth. Jared couldn't help but feel like a gazelle staring into the jaws of a lunging crocodile. "I'm a massive fan of his work! I would love an autograph, even if it's from his son. Please would you sign it?"

"No!" Jared stated, more sternly this time. He had no interest in encouraging a fangirl attitude that was aimed towards a man he despised.

The girl sat back in her seat, disappointed. "Oh, all right then." She muttered sadly. "I was going to make it worth your while, but if you're not interested."

Jared narrowed his brow. The thought _what the hell does that mean?_ would have gone through his mind again if his brain had not been focusing upon what those words could have actually meant. The look on her face and the striking of her tail suddenly took on a new meaning. He quietly sat back, arms upon his lap, hoping nobody would see the repercussion of these thoughts.

"If we could continue…" Ravenhead interrupted, now that the class had had their moment of judging Jared in comparison to his father. He continued to read out the last few names on the register. It was both lucky and unlucky that Jared's surname started with a letter so far down the alphabet. It meant that he had to wait a long time for it to be called, but after it was called he usually didn't have to wait much longer.

Once the avian teacher was finished with the register he placed the laminated sheet back onto the table besides Debstep's head and focused his attention back onto the class.

"So, before we get into the contents of this course, does anyone have any questions for us?" He asked with open arms. A few seconds passed and no hands raised. Ravenhead shrugged, and turned to Aries who was reaching for a series of papers beside him. He took the pile, reached over the desk and handed them to Ravenhead, who carefully held the pile upon his open palms, away from his sharp talons.

"We'll pass along your lesson timetables." He split the pile into four separate files and placed each at the end of a row, with a gesture that the students pass the pages along. Jared was last to receive his timetable, and thanks to Ravenhead's fingers it was slightly punctured.

It seemed that the lessons had been organised very simply. PE would be on Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning from ten to one, and on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons from two to five. School began at nine and ended at five, lunch was from one to two PM, and the other lessons took up the remaining spaces between. Geography was on Monday afternoons, History of Quirks and Heroes on Tuesday mornings, British Law on Wednesday afternoons, Criminal Psychology on Thursday mornings and Quirk Law on Friday afternoons. There was also an extra lesson on Saturday morning labelled 'Additional Studies'.

"Excuse me." Asked a head from the front row. The three teachers turned to it.

"Yes?" Ravenhead responded.

The girl who had spoken lowered her hand. "What is this Additional studies lesson?"

Aries spoke up this time, answering the question for his colleague. "That is an extra lesson for any students who are falling behind on any subjects. It is optional and available for anyone who needs assistance with their work. I will be there to offer support every week, and occasionally a few of the other teachers may turn up too."

The girl nodded, her question answered. As she lowered her hand, Jared got a glimpse of the seat she was in. He was surprised to see a pair of large wheels attached to him. She was sat in a wheelchair. That had genuinely shocked him. It seemed that Madam was not lying in her statement that this academy wanted to take on disabled students as well as normal ones. It seemed he was not the only unusual student in the class.

"Are there any further questions?" Ravenhead asked. No hands raised. "Alright then." He stepped away from the desk and headed towards the door. "Since today is your first day, we will not be beginning any of our lessons just yet. Instead, we will be focusing upon a basic series of tests. If you would follow me out to the field, I will explain further."

Jared sighed as the class began to move from their desks. The first lesson upon the course was a physical one. Considering his current physical track record, this probably would not help him make a good first impression.


	11. Chapter 9 - Displaying Quirks

**Aaren Whitley**

* * *

She followed the class of students out of the classroom as Ravenhead led them further down the hallway and through a pair of sliding glass doors. Beyond that was a large grass field, with a massive running track that followed the wall of academy. It was far longer than the sort any secondary school would have, and was seemingly designed for long distance running. She couldn't pinpoint its exact length, but she guessed it was around a thousand metres long. To the right side of the door, by the corner of the track, was a small patch of asphalt. Upon the asphalt and against the wall were two small semi-detached buildings. It was here that the teachers led them, standing to the side so the students could see the structure.

"These are the changing rooms." Ravenhead explained. "It was requested that each of you bring your own sports clothing today, so hopefully you have all done this. If not we can provide spares. Boys are to the right, girls to the left. Once you're changed, return here and we can start today's lesson."

With no further instructions necessary the class split in half, with the male members quickly hurrying to the right building, while its female members entered the left in a more calm and casual manner. Aaren Whitley was one of the first to enter, and subsequently one of the first to leave.

As she enter the interior of the female changing room she noticed immediately how well-lit and thoroughly cleaned it was. Shimmering white tiles covered the floor and walls, with no sign of fungal growth of dirt in any crevices. She noticed as she took her shoes off that it was not uncomfortable to stand upon them either, as it was in so many other facilities. In the middle of the room was a row of wooden benches and a few clothes racks in between. Against the far wall was a row of around twenty lockers, with keys inserted into the locks. At the back of the room was a bathroom, with a series of cubicles and private showers. A few of the girls rushed into them immediately, not to use them but to change in private, away from the judgemental gazes of the others. Aaren was not one of those girls. She didn't especially care what the other girls thought of her. She was not here for their benefit but her own.

Her sports clothing was almost identical to her normal clothing. She wore a pair of blue shorts that barely reached lower than her thighs and a white sleeveless vest in place of a shirt. This was all in aid of her Quirk. Long clothing would only get in her way and cause problems. Even shoes would be problematic, as she chose to remain bare feet as she left the changing room. The only additional and unnecessary piece of clothing she chose to wear was a grey sweatband, which lifted up the short cut fringe of her dark red hair.

While carefully packing her clothing into one of the nearby lockers she took a quick look at her fellow female class members. Most of them were very normal looking girls, nothing especially unique or unusually about them. Though as she counted the heads she noticed that there were about ten other females in the room with her, and she suspected that their gender made up exactly one half of the class. How fortunate was that? Somehow the academy had managed a complete equal split in number between the two sexes.

She took note of the girls changing around her, most of whom were much slower in this action than she was. The most unique looking of the lot was a girl with violet hair that hung down around her shoulders in a long vibrant cascade. In addition to this, her eyes were piercing blue like sapphires. Her body was slim, elegant and tall, yet she didn't seem especially arrogant about her looks.

The other girls were mostly normal looking, with one or two small unique details. One of the girls had strangely orange irises, and she seemed rather nervous upon noticing Aaren's judging stare. Another had a right hand like a claw from a prize machine, and a rather skinny lower arm which it attached to. A blond girl which, when she removed her shirt, had a spine that shimmered like metal. A girl who seemed to be part dinosaur, with scaly green skin that covered the sides of her face, torso, arms and legs, as well as nails as sharp as knives and a tail that moved of its own accord. So these would be the girls she would be learning alongside, but also competing against. Aaren didn't feel especially threatened by this. In fact she was looking forward to it.

* * *

As Aaren returned to the asphalt pitch she noticed that only a couple of the other students were already waiting. Either they were fast changer or they had not changed clothes at all. She noticed that the girl in the wheelchair had not made any attempt to change clothes, as she had not seen her within the changing room, though she imagined that would be rather tough. She probably didn't need to, either. No one would be expecting her to run the length of the field.

It did not seem that any of the other waiting students had refused to change into sportswear, except for one boy in particular who stood a little away from the other students. To her surprise she noticed that he was wearing a black, drab gothic dress. It wasn't even a male dress, as those had waistcoats and trousers. His dress had a smooth skirt that ran down to his ankles and a tight black shirt that covered every inch of his torso with dark material. Long sleeves covered the entirety of his arms from shoulder to wrist, and a black leather glove was worn on each hand. It seemed he was doing the best he could to cover up every part of his body. Even his pale, thin face was clouded by long strands of silky black hair. His eyes had dark marks underneath them, which from a glance could have been from makeup or from a lack of sleep. Aaren suspected that it was a hint of both. He was most certainly an unusual looking character, yet he did not seem eager for attention as one might assume from a figure wearing such standout clothing. He had been standing far to the back of the group, trying to remain unseen. Aaren hadn't quite noticed his unusual dress sense up until now. She had to remind herself that it would not be befitting for her to laugh at him.

It was twenty to ten when the last member of the class finally returned from the changing rooms. One of the girls who had rushed into the cubicles had finally plucked up the courage to change clothes and return to the class. It seemed she had chosen to wear lots of clothing around her chest, which Aaren found slightly odd. She had to be boiling under so much cloth. By the time she reached them the rest of the class had been patiently waiting for their first lesson to begin. As the last student arrived, Ravenhead and his teaching companions lined up in front of them, and began to explain what their very first lesson would be.

"Physical education will be the most important of all the subjects you study on this course." Ravenhead spoke. "After all, physical wellness is important to any hero. You need to have the speed to catch a criminal and the strength and endurance to face a villain or lift rubble of a trapped citizen. Of course these aren't the only skills a hero needs, but many would say they are the most basic." He clapped his wrinkled hands together, his talons scratching his knuckles as his fingers closed around each other. "As our first lesson together, we will be testing each of you on your current physical abilities, not just Quirks but also stamina and endurance." He took a step back, allowing Aries to take up the mantle of leading the class.

"Most of your physical education lessons will be focused upon self-improvement, with the goal to ready your bodies for the strenuous requirements of performing heroic tasks..." he paused. "However, as today is our first day as a class, we thought it would be worth going easy and getting used to your exercise schedule."

"Ve are going to give you a chance to show off." Interrupted Dubstep with a wry grin on his face. "Make it a little interesting and put your skills on display. Anyone who vants to, come stand over here and show us your Quirk."

Around the class went a hushed whisper, of excitement in some areas and of fear in others. Aaren was not particularly nervous of the suggestion. It wasn't exactly excitement she was feeling either. It was closer to joyful duty.

"Would we have to say much?" Asked a boy at the front, who had a pair of large brown and grey moth wings extending from below the back of his shoulders.

"You only need tell everyone vat your Quirk is and vat it does." Dubstep explained. "I'll give you an example."

The hero took a step forward, and from his belt he pulled up a detached microphone head, with a thin and fuzzy windshield covering it, and attached to it via wire was a small portable pocket stereo that was still strapped around his waist. He held the microphone in one hand and placed the fingers of his other a centimetre away from the windshield. With the microphone to his lips he began to speak, his voice echoing out like the booming tone of a god.

"My name is Niko Mikhaelov, and my Quirk is called _Reverberation_. My fingertips continuously create small pulsating vibrations, and ven placed upon certain materials, such as vater, this creates large ripples. This only occurs vhile my vocal chords are moving, and the louder sounds I make vith my mouth the stronger the vibrations are." He cleared his throat and switched the microphone on. He placed his circular fingertips upon the windshield and began to hum. Through the speaker came a low, pulsating sound, like the guttural rumbles of a giant beast. Then, with no warning beforehand, Dubstep shouted at the top of his voice. He shouted only for a second, yet the blast of sound that came from the speaker was deafening. It was so loud and so strong that it created a ripple of air that spread outward, making the nearby grass dramatically shudder. Aaren had to cover her ears, as did many other students, as the sound was so loud it made her eardrums rattle.

Dubstep switched the microphone off and pocketed it once more. As he did so, the wave of pulsating sound now spreading across the field faded in silence with a weak whimper. The hero turned back to his students, grinning humorously as he noticed the many covered ears. "So… who's first?"

It took some time for the class to recover from their first-hand experience with a teacher's Quirk. A few of the members were most certainly uninterested in standing before the others. As Aaren noticed these individuals she was surprise to spot that the Progenitor's boy was one of them. It had been surprising enough to learn that he existed, and that he was studying at this lesser known school rather than one with higher recognition such as Obsidian Academy or Southwall College. It was another surprise to see him acting so timidly. As the child of such a renowned hero, she would've expected him to bathe in the spotlight, as he'd probably done many times before. Perhaps his timidity was the reason why he was here and not at a more acknowledged academy.

Aaren had never especially admired children like him. The offspring of well-off parents. The upper class. The people who already had it all. He probably thought he was better than everyone else. She had met a few boys like him. They usually thought they were more important than others. It seemed there were a couple of students like that in the class already, though he was the only one known to come from a hero background. She herself was not from hero stock. Her father was a well-known yet struggling martial artist, her mother the owner of a small crafts store in Central Galafrei. Money was hard to come by, and there were days where they struggled to buy food for the month. As the younger of two sibling she had no title, an empty wallet and a few social stigmas to overcome. Unlike the timid son of Progenitor Wreath, she could never get into a higher grade hero academy. The costs for taking their courses were just too high for a lower class family to reach. She was here for the same reason as many other members of her class: they could not afford anything better.

A few of the students had already put their hands up, pleading to be the first to show off their natural born powers. As casually as she could, Aaren also raised her hand. From the number of waving arms the Russian hero picked out one at random.

"You!" He said, pointing to a confident black haired boy at the front of the class. As attention was drawn to him, Aaren recognised him as the boy who had mocked the Progenitor' son not half an hour before. He seemed so full of confidence and certainty, yet he was rather skinny and tall looking, not the sort of boy you'd usually expect to behave like a jock. "Vat is your name?"

He walked to the front of the class, the collar of a thin red polo shirt strangling his neck. "Jason." He stated coolly, and with a smug expression he turned to the rest of the class and added, "Jason Jones. You can all call me JJ."

There was a silent response. It seemed he was trying some poorly thought out attempt at acting suave, in a sort of James Bond style persona to stir up interest in the ladies. Unfortunately not one of the girls, Aaren included, were impressed by his performance.

After receiving nothing but the quiet looks of his classmates, the self-proclaimed JJ turned back to the teachers.

"Good, good." Continued Dubstep. "Venever you're ready."

Jason cracked his knuckles and turned to face the class. He stretched out his arms, flexed, twisted and turned, and then turned to the left, pushing his right arm out as far as he could reach. One by one he curled his fingers and flicked them quickly outward again. When he was finally done showing off he began to speak in the same overly confident voice.

"So, my Quirk is a special one." He stated. "If I clench the muscles in my arm, pull it back from the elbow and close my hand into a fist..." he visually copied the actions he was explaining. "...then, when I punch, this happens!" He lashed forward with a sharp jab.

With no warning a massive blast of air burst from between his clenched fingers, rushing along his arm and across the field facing it. The unfortunate reeds of shortly cut grass in its way were bashed about and ripped from their rooting, as the blast of air skidded along the earth and finally reached the tall stone wall, where it collided with the bricks and exploded like a see-through balloon.

There was an awed gasp from the class as they watched the display, hair slightly ruffled from the backdraft. Jason gave them a cocky grin, knowing that he had now impressed them.

"My Quirk is called Air Cannon" He explained, with that same confident grin. "When I tense the muscles in my arms I can fire large blasts of air upon release."

There was a small clap from the crowd of students, which was slowly followed by a few extra pairs of hands joining in. It was only a small applause, yet he treated it like a standing ovation. The only people who seemed to be genuinely impressed by the performants were the three teachers, though it was likely they were only clapping out of a requirement to encourage. However there seemed to be a number of students much less impressed than they were expected to be. In particular one boy who was stood at the back of the class began shouting a series of rather insulting words.

"Show off!" He bellowed, his hands cupped around his mouth. "We're not impressed you know!"

Jason turned sharply, his eyes wide and sharp, scanning the crowd, his face scrunched up with anger.

"Who said that?" He demanded.

Like the parting of the red sea, the class slowly stepped aside, leaving the heckling boy in full view of his enraged target. It was the same boy who had been making jokes during registration. The one with the ghostly duplicate following him around. Aaren tried to remember his name.

The boy took a step forward, and his spirit copy followed. "All that posing makes you look desperate for attention." He continued, his arms folded. "Your Quirk isn't even that special. There's plenty of people out there with Quirks like yours."

Jason narrowed his eyes at the two of them, his arms sliding rigidly into the pockets of his trousers. "Oh really?" He asked with a sarcastic snicker.

The transparent boy pointed a long finger at him. "Our Quirk is ten times better than yours!" It stated proudly.

Jason leered forwards, his smile turning into an infuriated scowl. "Then why don't you come over here and prove it?" He suggested with a voice of offended pride.

The two boys glared at each other. Out of the corner of his mouth, the non-translucent of the two hecklers turned to his opaque companion and muttered something that Aaren couldn't hear. Whatever he had said it bothered the ghost boy, as he looked back with raised eyebrows.

"Alright." Stated the boy. He walked through the open pathway that the class had created for him and took his place where Jason had once been standing. The confident boy was now standing a few feet back, watching with a mockingly judgemental stare.

"Hello everyone." The solid boy said with a wave, his once confident tone wavering a bit now that he was stood in front of the entire class. "My name's Tate, and this is my brother Mitchell." He pointed to his ghostly sibling, who also waved. "My Quirk is called Twin, and Mitchell is the result of it. I have a constant ethereal copy following me around. He can walk through any solid material and levitate slightly off the ground, but we can't move any further than five metres away from each other."

His Quirk began talking for itself, speaking over its owner. "I can think for myself, too." He added smugly. "I don't need my brother here to instruct me on what to do all the time like some other Quirks do. Honestly, if we weren't attached at the navel I would've left him long ago. He's pretty useless compared to me."

Tate very slowly turned to his sibling, and with a clenched hand he grabbed him by the umbilical cord and tugged. Mitchell gasped and lurched forwards.

"I warned you." Tate whispered, his words barely audible above the pained gurgles of his brother. Aaren wouldn't have heard it if she had not been standing close to the front of the class herself. The ghostly twin glared at his brother, as Tate turned back to the class and focused his gaze specifically upon Jason. He didn't seem especially impressed.

"What was it you said about attention seeking?" He commented harshly. "It seems that's the only thing you and your Quirk are capable of doing. You can't even control it. It says whatever it likes and puts you down in the process. How does that make your Quirk better than mine?"

Tate glared back at him, and even Mitchell seemed offended by his commend, though whether he was offended for Tate or for himself was hard to tell.

"At least my Quirk is unique." Tate argued back. "I can't think of many people with a Quirk like mine, where as yours has been used to death. At least my Quirk is special."

"Oh it's special all right." Jason agreed sarcastically. "Special as in Special Needs!"

"Sod off, fart hands!" Mitchell shouted, enraged by the slanderous insults being thrown at him. The class chuckled a little.

Jason looked at him, baffled. "Fart hands?" he asked.

"Yeah." Mitchell continued. "You fart with your hands. I thought that was your Quirk."

Suddenly Jason looked very pale.

"It's not farting!" He stated furiously. "It's the expulsion of compressed gas through the constriction and release of muscles!"

"Yeah, that's what farting is!" Mitchell snapped back. "Just admit it. You've got fart hands, plain and simple."

Jason looked both embarrassed and enraged. From the class behind him came a series of surreptitious giggles, and a few mutters of _fart hands_ followed. He gritted his teeth in rage.

"Enough!" Aries stated before either of the boys could continue throwing insults at one another. "Do the both of you need reminding that you are not in school anymore? You are at an academy for training heroes. There's nothing wrong with criticizing another student's behaviour, but mocking and insulting them is completely unacceptable. Either the both of you learn to grow up or you can both go home!"

The class fell silent. The two boys looked away, embarrassed and ashamed by the scolding they had received. Even Mitchell looked shyly at the floor, not wanting to meet eyes with the teacher.

Aries folded his arms. "Jason…" He said after a few seconds of quiet had passed. The boy looked at him with anger. "It does not matter at the end of the day whether your Quirk is unique or powerful. This does not mean you are better than any other student here. Confidence can become an Achilles Heel in this career. If you let your pride get in the way of your learning then trust me, it will come back to bite you."

Jason didn't respond. He looked the hero in the eyes and slowly nodded, embarrassed that he was being talked down to in front of the entire class.

Aries now turned to the twins. "Tate…" He said after another short pause. "You are right in saying that your Quirk is uncommon, and with training it could become one with a lot of uses."

"I'm standing right here." Mitchell complained. "Don't talk about me like I'm an object…"

Tate had to place his hand over Mitchell's mouth to shut him up, and even then the ghostly twin didn't let him do this without putting up a fight.

Aries sighed with disappointment, ignoring the ghost's comment. "However, you need to learn to control him. If Mitchell ignores everything you say and acts upon his own will whenever he wants then he will only cause you trouble when you least need it. I understand that this may be tough, but if the both of you cannot communicate then you will never succeed as a hero."

"I understand." Tate muttered quietly. Aaren noticed just how quickly his confident and humorous attitude had faded away under an educator's reprimanding. It appeared this personality was a façade.

With the verbal insults and chiding now over and done with, the two boys were sent to stand with their class again, and Aries relaxed a little, sighing and closing his eyes in some attempt to relieve the stress.

"Now, are there any other students who wish to come up and show their Quirks off?" He asked.

It seemed that the class was slightly quieter than it had been. A few of the figures who had been eager to show off before were now less interested in the idea. The reprimanding had not put off everyone though, as a few members of the class decided to take their place beside the teachers and discuss the powers they developed as toddlers.

The next to go up was a girl, the one with the long violet hair and glowing limb joins, which seemed to not only be on her arms but her legs as well. Her name was Lavender Marshall, which was a rather fitting name as the circular bands around his limbs pulsed with a purple and violet hue. She explained that her Quirk was called _Bioluminescence_ , which meant that the joints of her limbs had strange pigment cells around them that continuously glowed. She also went on to explain that, with enough focus, she could convert the glowing into a small beam of energy, which she then displayed. A tiny, thin beam of purple light shot from her fingertip and set a few blades of nearby grass ablaze. She seemed very calm and tranquil after the shouting she had just witnessed. Aaren was impressed by her relaxed attitude when standing before the class, as well as the amount of factual detail she went into while explaining her Quirk. She seemed to be very intellectual, the kind of smarts that came from reading many books.

After Lavender was done talking another boy took her place at the front of the class. His name was Philip Keel, and his Quirk was called _Spines_. This had not been especially hard to guess, as the boy had a series short, thin, hollow spikes growing all over his body; along his arms, his spine and the top of his head. In place of hair he had a few well-groomed and shortened spines that pointed backwards, looking as if they had been gelled that way. He explained that his spines would grow like hairs upon his body, and that if he didn't cut them or remove them they could reach several metres in length. He also added that, if he tensed the muscles in his body really rightly, he could fire the spines out like a fragmentation grenade. The downside of this was that he would have to wait a day before the spines started to regrow, and this left him looking naked like a new-born hedgehog. Unlike the other members of the class who had gone before him, he seemed especially nervous to be standing in front of everyone, as he stuttered a few times and kept looking at the floor in an attempt to avoid their gaze.

The next student to go up was a boy with the hairless dog's head. Other than a canine snout and ears, the rest of his body seemed perfectly normal. He stated his name as George Asher, and continued to explain his Quirk, which he called _Flammable Saliva._ There was a small look of confusion from the class as he announced this. Most had been expecting him to have a doglike Quirk, seeing as how canine the features of his face were. He went on to give them an example. He spat a strange looking orange liquid from his mouth onto one of his wrinkled hands, and began rubbing it into his skin, much to the disgust of the viewing students. Then, with his mouth wide open, he released a small jet of red fire from his lower jaw onto the substance in his hand. Sure enough, the substance set alight in an instant. He explained that his lower jaw had a series of microscopic heat glands in them, and that through these glands he could expel a flammable gas which caught fire upon touching the saliva in his jaw. He himself was practically immune to the effects, as the fire upon his lips and hand did no harm his skin whatsoever. The class was rather impressed by this, and a few of them began referring to him as _George the Dragon_ , though _George the Dog_ would have been more appropriate.

The next student to stand before the class was Aaren.

She had decided to let a few of the other students go first before standing there herself, not wanting to appear too eager to show off. She nodded to the teachers as she reached them.

"Could I ask for two targets to use, please?" She requested as she approached. Dubstep looked at his colleagues, who shrugged.

"Sure." He told her, and quickly jogged across to the small shed beside the changing rooms. He returned with two plastic dummies attached to weighted stands. He handed them to Aaren, who placed them in a line sideways to the class, so that they could see her Quirk in full use. Once the preparations were made, she turned to her fellow classmates and bowed modestly.

It had been a long time since she'd had a chance to show off in front of an audience. She still remembered the first time she told anyone about her power, back when she was in primary school. She remembered how the other children clapped and cheered for her when she showed off, how they shouted her name in excitement. Most other kids already had a Quirk by then, yet they had given her their attention over everyone else. The realisation of that had made her feel so proud. It made her feel special, even though she was not the only child there with a Quirk, certainly not the one with the most unusual abilities.

"My name is Aaren Whitley." She announced in a calm, clear voice. She began rubbing her hands together in preparation, scratching the skin along her arms with short fingernails. "And this is my Quirk." She held up her bare, freckled arms so that the class could see them. She wanted them to understand that what she was about to do was not a trick or illusion. This was the part she had been looking forward to. It was alright explaining her powers to someone, but she got much more of a kick out of showing them off. This was the Quirk she had been born with. One that had been passed down by her father and his father before him. It was about time she started putting it to use.

She turned towards the lined up dummies and pulled back her arm. With a sharp movement she struck forward, arm extending and fist speeding towards he dummy's head. Her hand went straight through the plastic target like light through paper, and instead struck the one behind it with full force. The second dummy wobbled and toppled backwards, landing heavily upon the asphalt underneath it. As Aaren pulled her arm back it passed through the first dummy once more, again treating it as if the obstacle were not there. There was no change in the structure of her arm, no illusion or trickery. She had not missed or curved her arm around the first target to strike the second. Her arm had gone through the first's head with the puncturing power of a bullet, yet the first was completely undamaged while the second lay rocking on the floor. The only hint of anything unusual was the slightly faded colouring of her arm which occurred as it passed through the dummy.

"My Quirk is called _Limb Intangibility_." She explained with a proud grin. "I can make any part of my arms or legs pass through any material whenever I want, while keeping other parts solid. I can only do this with my limbs, however. I cannot pass my head or body through anything."

She had been expecting a very specific reaction of applause as she explained her Quirk. She supped that she should have expected one or two people to be unimpressed or uninterested. There were always people like that, after all. However the one reaction she had not been expecting from her class was utter silence. As she looked at them she realised that most if not all of the other students were thoroughly bored by her display. She had not made the impact she had been hoping for, and that made her angry.

"Thank you, Aaren." Dubstep said after the silence had reached an uncomfortable length. "You can let somebody else stand in front of the class now."

Aaren looked at him, unsure what she was supposed to feel but knowing that she did feel a growing anger. She stomped back towards the class, muttering a few annoyed obscenities on the way. How could every one of them stand so quietly upon observing her? What had she done so differently to anyone else? As she returned to where she had been standing, bare arms crossed in annoyance, she saw the teachers beginning to step forward once more, tired of letting the students display their vanity.

"Ve're starting to run out of time now…" Dubstep continued, looking at his wrist which was absent of a watch. "Vould anyone else like to quickly come up and show of their Quirk?"

It seemed that most of the students who had wanted to go up and stand before the class had already gone or changed their minds. Though there was a small discussion going on between two students towards the back of the class. Aaren could faintly overhear them whispering.

"Why don't you go up?" Asked the voice of Tate Anderson.

"I don't know." Replied a female voice, sounding shy and uncomfortable. "I don't want to."

"I'm sure your Quirk is better than everyone else's." Tate continued to harass.

"I don't feel comfortable standing in front of the class." The girl continued to argue, though her words went unheard by the twins.

"It's easy. Just forget everyone's watching and think about yourself." Tate explained, using an excuse that thoroughly described his personality.

"I'd rather not." The girl insisted.

It turned out that she was not going to get a choice in the matter, as Mitchell raised his misty hand high above the heads of the class and bellowed at the top of his voice "My friend here would like to go up!"

The class turned towards them. The girl immediately shrunk into herself with anxiety. Having very little choice but to go through with the exercise, she walked slowly past the class and took her place near the teachers, arms crossed and legs shivering. Aaren recognised her as the girl who had been chatting with the Progenitor's boy that morning, before the academy had opened and let them inside. She wondered what their relationship was. Maybe they were siblings, though they didn't look much alike. Her brown hair, orange eyes and slightly meatier facial structure suggested a very different ancestor to his. Then maybe they were a couple. It wouldn't surprise her if the child of such a well-recognised hero was also talented at picking up ladies. Though why he would choose such a normal, simple looking girl she couldn't understand. To each their own, she supposed. There was, of course, the possibility that they were just friends, which could happen between boys and girls, even in their teenage years. Even so, that was not especially likely. Most boys Aaren had known only had one thing in mind, and Aaren preferred to stay well away from that thing.

The girl muttered nervously, and began to speak up for the class to hear. Her voice was like the meowing of a frightened kitten, full of fear and self-consciousness "I'm M-Maisie Collard." She stuttered anxiously. "M-my Quirk is called C- _Crafter's Eyes_. It allows me to… to…" She began to trail of with nerves. Her legs began to fidget.

From the back of the class came another shout from one of the Anderson brothers. "You're doing great!" They bellowed.

Maisie bit her lip, looking ready to break down in panic. "M-my Quirk allows me to c-create gadgets by l-looking at the materials n-needed for it. My m-mind creates a blueprint of that gadget and w-with the material necessary I p-piece it together by hand."

She paused to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves. The class seemed interested at the very least, though why they were interested was yet to be seen. Individuals with technology-based Quirks were rare to come by and often incredibly talented, but with her stuttering, whispering and continuous fidgeting it was tough for anyone to understand her explanation.

Maisie reached awkwardly for her bag with a shaking hand, and began to rummage inside. "I can s-show you an example of something I p-put together before today." She explained. A moment later she pulled out her hand, and gripped within her fingers was what looked to be a blue handgun.

The class gasped in shock. Not one person had been expecting her to pull out a weapon. The teachers immediately acted. Aries approached her within a single step and put a hand upon her wrist. Firmly but gently he lowered her arm, aiming the weapon towards the ground.

"Careful." He said slowly, looking her in the eyes. He made sure that the barrel of the weapon was aimed towards the earth, so that there was no danger of it accidentally going off and hitting someone. Aaren was mostly surprised by the lack of shock that the teachers were showing. Did they know that she would bring a weapon to the class? More importantly, had she done this before and was the weapon even dangerous?

Maisie looked completely embarrassed and ready to cry at any moment. The horned teacher put his other arm upon her shoulder, almost as if he was trying to comfort her. To Aaren's shock Aries didn't seem furious or stunned that the girl had brought a weapon to the school. Instead he seemed sympathetic, which was not an emotion she had expected a teacher to have involving such an incident. He took the gun from her limp fingers and passed it to Ravenhead, who gripped it awkwardly within his wrinkled palms.

"This stun gun I made with the help of a friend for the entrance exam." She explained. "With enough time, I can make other gadgets too…" She paused. She looked ready to break down in fear and embarrassment. Aries leaned forward and whispered something into her ear. She nodded slowly, wiping a hand across her eyes. He patted her gently on the back and ushered her back to the crowd. The poor girl looked humiliated, although no one was laughing at her. Most were still in shock of her actions. It was safe to say that none of them had quite bee expecting this.

With the exciting incident over, the teachers seemed ready to start the actual class now, and they probably would have done if the Anderson brothers had not interrupted them again.

"Your turn, now." Stated Tate, as he looked to the boy beside him. Aaren turned towards them, and noticed he was talking to the Progenitor's son. He seemed shocked by the suggestion.

"What?" He asked.

"Go on." Tate insisted. "Maisie told us her Quirk. Now it's your turn."

The entire class had turned with intrigue to watch them. The progenitor's boy shook his head sharply.

"No. I don't really want to do that." He insisted.

"Come on, Jared!" Mitchell stated with a demanding grin. "Stop being so modest! You're the Progenitor's son. Surely you have a kickass Quirk you're just dying to show off?"

From the corner of her eye Aaren noticed Ravenhead and Aries look at each other with an expression of what seemed to be awkward preparation. It appeared they knew something the other students didn't about this boy, and for them to find out would probably not be especially good for him.

"Go on!" Tate insisted. "What are you scared of?"

Jared slowly glanced at the class, to see every pair of eyes focused upon him. It was clear that he had realised how much they were expecting from him. He quietly sighed, as if he would have to reveal some serious secret, and leaned in to Tate's ear. The boy stood listening to his whispers, and a second later his face began to lose all colour.

"No way!" He muttered with shock, as Jared pulled away, his eyes turned to the floor with embarrassment. "I never would have guessed." Tate continued.

"Tell no one." Jared whispered back, just loud enough for a few closer members of the class to hear.

Tate nodded, and then slowly a smile crept across his face. In a voice too loud to keep a secret from prying ears, he stated "Who would have thought that the son of the Progenitor was Quirkless?"

The silence that came from the class was loud enough to burst an eardrum. Not a mouth moved to speak, only to widen in astonishment. Jared covered his face with a hand, trying to hide the shame.

"Quirkless?" Repeated one students at the back.

"Quirkless?" Asked another in shock.

 _Quirkless?_ Aaren thought, stunned. She had never felt more ashamed and angry at herself in her entire life. The shock of this revelation put every thought she had had about the boy into a new and unfair perspective. Every small judgement she had made about his personality, his abilities, based upon his heritage and his background, were suddenly turned upside down. In that moment she wasn't sure what to think of him. She couldn't imagine being the Quirkless child of the country's most famous hero. How awful she was to make such harsh assumptions about him, to not recognise his struggle and realise that something had to be wrong in his life for him, of all people, to be at this school. She dreaded to imagine how much she would have hurt him if she had not learned this now and had continued to see him the way she had a few moments before. In the very back of her mind a memory of something her mother had described began to form. A memory from a tough time in her life, in a place where people like Jared Wreath were treated very badly. It pained her to realise that she had thought so badly of one Quirkless individual, when she admired and respected another so much.

"Who knew it?" Mitchell began to shout, hands cupped around his mouth, wanting to embarrass Jared even further. "The son of the Progenitor is Quirkless. The most famous hero in England has a Quirkless son. We all thought he'd be a great hero, but he's as Quirkless as a new-born baby!"

Jared did the best he could to avoid the stunned gazes of the class, and each of them seemed completely shocked by the very suggestion. How could a hero so renowned have a child who was Quirkless? It wasn't impossible, heroes had parented Quirkless children before… but the Progenitor…?

From the front of the class came the voice of Jason, who looked thoroughly enraged. "What is a Quirkless boy doing in a hero school?" He demanded.

Jared didn't respond. For a moment he looked up to see the burning eyes of Jason Jones approaching him.

"Why did he get in when other applicants did not?!" He shouted, furiously. "He could have paid to study at any hero school, yet he comes here, to the one he doesn't have to pay for. Are you a coward as well as a Quirkless rat?"

One of the boys tried to grab Jason's shoulder and stop him, but he was having none of it. He shook of the boy's grip and stood face to face with Jared Wreath, looking down upon him with the manner of a giant looking down upon a dwarf. His eyes burned with a strange hatred.

"You're here when any other capable student could have taken your place." He stated in blind rage. "Why are you even here? Is it because your daddy's a famous hero? Do you think you're better than the rest of us, even when you don't have a Quirk? Do you think that you'll be better heroes than us, even without a Quirk?"

"I don't think I'm better than anyone." Jared argued back, finally deciding to stand up for himself. "I came here for the same reason as you; to become a hero. I don't care about being the number one hero. I just want to be a hero."

"You're not hero material." Jason stated with a growl. "You'll never be capable of that. Your being here has denied other applicants a place on this course, applicants who are likely more capable than you." He prodded Jared's shoulder, looking for a response, but Jared didn't give him one. Jason glared at him and curled his lips in rage. "You're just scum!" He taunted. "No good attention seeking scum!"

"Jason!"

The young man froze as Ravenhead barked harshly at him. He turned to see the avian teacher looking him in the eyes, a stern expression on his face.

"Calm down!" Ravenhead stated slowly.

Jason turned away from Jared, turning his anger now towards the teachers. "Why is he here?" He demanded, pointing back at Jared. "He doesn't have a Quirk! How could he ever succeed as a hero? There are many other people who would make much better heroes than him, yet he is here and they are not. How is that fair?"

Ravenhead looked calmly at him. It was tough to tell what the expression on his face was trying to portray. The black feathers and long beak hid a lot of the more obviously expressive parts. It seemed to Aaren that he looked rather sympathetic towards the Quirkless boy, and maybe slightly caring.

"Getting angry will help nothing." Ravenhead explained. "He is here for the same reasons as you and as the rest of the class. You want to prove yourselves as heroes, yet, for whatever reason, you cannot manage to secure a place in a more renowned or prominent school."

"But why him?" Jason continued to demand. "Why him, when there are others more capable. Why a Quirkless boy?"

"It is not your place to decide how capable Jared is…" Ravenhead reminded him. "...as it is not his place to decide the same about you. As for why he is at this school, need I repeat the Principal's motto? Broadhurst Heroism Academy is open to any and all, no matter their class, background, creed, colour, disability or Quirk. Even those lacking in a Quirk are welcome if they can prove themselves capable of becoming a hero. That is why all of you are here today."

Jason clearly understood what Ravenhead was telling him, yet he didn't seem any more comforted by his explanation. He was still angry that a Quirkless individual was among them. Aaren couldn't guess what made him so furious about the matter. His eyes were full of rage, yet behind that there was a mild suggestion of sorrow, maybe even regret. It could be tough to tell with some individuals.

"It is important to remember that every one of you is here for the same reason." Aries added, scratching his beard with a blunt finger. "How and why you came here does not matter anymore. You are all aiming for the same goal. You should focus upon your own development, rather than concerning yourself with the history of another."

The class was quiet for a minute longer. Jason gave Jared a final angry glance before leaving him alone, returning to the place he had once been standing. Jared attempted to hide away from the rest of the class, visually ashamed by his lack of a Quirk and the amount of attention it had brought him. Aaren couldn't blame him. Thoughts of her mother returned to her, of how she had witnessed the cruelty of the eighty percent towards those of the twenty percent.

"Vell, I thing ve've done enough showing off for today." Dubstep spoke up as the silence grew uncomfortable. "Ve should get on vith the actually lesson. For today ve vill only focus upon testing vat you are capable off. Ve'll start by having you run a lap around the field to test your cardio, and once you get back ve'll move on to looking at Aerobic Exercises." He thrust his left hand out and pointed at the grass track. "Off you go!"

It took a moment for the class to start moving, as no one was especially keen on being the first to start, but eventually those at the front began jogging towards the track. Those behind them followed suit quickly after, and Aaren was among them. They waited for the entire class to reach the track before the teachers let them begin running Aaren founder herself somewhere in the middle of the main group. She was certainly not the fastest of the students, but she was able to keep up with most of them.

"Are we allowed to use our Quirks?" Asked Jason as the class began to charge down the track.

"Of course!" Dubstep yelled back.

Aaren noticed Jason grin ahead of her, and a few seconds later he was thrown upwards by a massive blast of air. The shockwave sent the unfortunate students who had been running behind him stumbling backwards, dirt flying up into their faces. In one large action the boy had moved from the middle of the group to the very font. Not long after a few other students followed suit, using their various abilities to gain speed and pass the other students by, though none went as far as to purposefully debilitate or block the other students. The boy with the moth wings was flying low to the ground, as it seemed he was unable to gain any greater height, though he was moving faster than most of the other students with his rapid wing movements. The lizard girl seemed to be using her naturally thin and agile body to accelerate at a speed which none of the other students could reach. The girl with the thin claw hand had fired it several metres ahead, revealing it was not just a claw but also a grappling hook, as it had a long strand of fleshy rope that attached it to her wrist.

There were only a few students trailing along at the back. The girl in the wheelchair was one of them, as was the boy in the gothic clothing and the girl wearing many clothes. The Progenitor's Quirkless son was another.

Aaren noticed him struggling to breath, panting and sweating, expression dark and miserable. He ran as if he was dragging the weight of the world behind him. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He had seemed so miserable when the classed turned upon him. It was probably something he had been dreading to happen, yet knew eventually would. It would seem unnatural for Aaren to slow down and help him. As much as she felt sympathy for his plight, she had to make her own progress come first.

For the moment she pushed aside the memory of her mother and continued on with the race.


	12. Chapter 10 - Rigorous Body Training

**Jon Laverick**

* * *

He was not at all surprised to realise that he was at the very back of the running class. He had always come last in sports, and as his feet dug up the earth which he trod upon, he realised that this was not about to change. He had been stood at the front of the class when they were told to run the track around the field. He had been seventh to reach the line, and within seconds of the race starting he was passed by twenty of the other students. Now he was running behind with the few others who couldn't keep up.

By this point in his life Jon Laverick had gotten used to coming last. When you already knew you were going to fail, the pain of defeat usually became a lot duller. He had learned how to deal with this situation, thanks to many years of experiencing the embarrassment of coming last in school sports day races. Many students and teachers had always asked why he even bothered to participate in the races if he knew he would come last. Jon had always responded by telling them that one day he wouldn't come last, and that he would keep trying until that day happen. He was still waiting for it even now, at the age of sixteen and just starting his first day at an academy for training heroes.

Jon's lack of speed and athletic ability came down not to his health but to his weight. While he was a big young man with a slightly oversized stomach and a small amount of muscle on his chest and arms, this was not the major contributor to his heaviness. The actual reason why he had broken every set of scales he had ever stood on was his Quirk. A mere glance down at his feet betrayed the real reason as to why he could not keep up with the other students. At the bottom of two muscular, long, veiny legs were a pair of silvery metal truncated pyramids attached to his ankles in place of human feet. Each one started thin at the joint and grew rapidly outwards into a wide, thick and bulky shape. It took a lot of strength just to take a step, and as a child Jon had been unable to walk for several years. It had taken him that long to develop enough strength in his legs to move them freely, and even now he found himself struggling sometimes. He had to be careful what surfaces he walked upon in case his giant feet broke through them. For this reason he could never risk walking on a frozen lake, no matter how thick the ice was.

Yet despite his heavy burden, somehow Jon had made it through life, albeit a lot slower than most people. The one thing his legs could not get in the way of was his brain. He had left secondary school with two A's in Maths and Science and a B in English. None of his teachers would have denied that he was an intelligent young man. However his choice in career had puzzled them at first. With a brain like his he could have studied to become a respected scientist or impressive mathematician. Most of them couldn't understand why he would instead choose to become a hero. When they saw him come last in every race he ever took, it was all too easy to assume that he would not be capable as a hero. Heavy legs would have major drawbacks when chasing criminals, fighting villains or rescuing victims. But this was not what Jon saw. To him, losing was just a challenge to get better.

He was surprised that there were so many other students falling behind alongside him. He had expected to be alone at the back of class. Of course the girl in the wheelchair was struggling to keep up, though even she was moving faster than he was. There were three others as well, and they surprised Jon much more. Two of the more quiet students; a boy wearing a black gothic dress and a girl wearing a mass of thick clothing, with a parker coat on the exterior layer. There was also another boy, the progenitor's son. He was the one that Jon found he was most surprised to see at the back. He was panting and wheezing, struggling to keep up. It was astounding to realise that Jon was only a few feet behind him and slowly growing closer.

The rest of the class were reaching the halfway point around the track. In the distance Jon could see the ever confident Jason Jones firing himself upward in a blast of air and sailing forward at impressive speed towards the ground, only to launch himself up again with another blast. The grass behind him was left cratered, and the following students had to be careful not to fall into any of them as they followed suit. Most students would have seen this performance and found themselves jealous of such capable and powerful movements, but not Jon. Instead he was grateful that he was not one of those students so far ahead, having to avoid the sudden pits forming before him. Once he got to that part of the track he expected that the rest of the students would have finished, and any damage caused to the track would be stagnant and non-moving at the very least. It was much easier to avoid an environmental hazard when it stopped moving.

He had passed the two-hundred metre mark when he finally caught up with the Progenitor's son. The boy was wheezing heavily, clutching at his chest, trying to stay standing and not fall forward onto his face. He was hunch, running with rigid legs and flat feet. A blue hoodie was zipped up tight around his chest, the thin collar strangling his scrawny throat. Jon felt slightly embarrassed for him. At least _he_ had an excuse for being so slow.

It never occurred to Jon that it was not his place to educate another student. The way he saw it, if he had advice to offer he would provide it gladly without request or reward, and he hoped that other students would do the same for him. So, when he did start speaking, he couldn't understand why the sweating, black haired boy beside him looked so bothered.

"You're not helping yourself by running like that." Jon told him as he ran alongside him. The boy looked at him, sweat caking his brow and cheeks. "You'll boil in that hoodie. Take it off and leave it behind."

The boy raised his eyebrows. After a moment he slowed down and began to unzip his hoodie, tying the arms around his waist so that the article of clothing was still attached to his person. Jon noticed him catching a deeper breath now that his chest was free from the sweaty fabric. It was not quite it what Jon had meant, but it was at least a start it a better direction.

"Land on your heels, push off with your toes." Jon instructed further, pointing at the feet of his fellow student. "Move your arms, don't restrict them. Keep your back straight and head up, you won't be able to breathe like that."

"Yes… Thank you…" The boy snapped in irritated "I can manage."

"Can you?" Jon asked, a little hurt that his help was being ignored. The boy looked at him with his green eyes, and looked away awkwardly.

"Sorry." He said quietly.

"It's alright." Jon told him, pausing for breath. Talking while running was not an easy way to multitask.

The boy went quiet, trying not to meet his gaze. Jon wiped his forehead and reached the same hand out in greetings.

"Jon Laverick." He said with a tired smile. The boy looked at him, then at his hand, and shook it with a pale, sweating palm.

"Jared Wreath." He said, trying not to gasp for air in-between words.

"What are you doing all the way back here anyway?" Jon asked, as the both of them ran alongside each other and reached the first turning of the track. To their right passed the stone wall that surrounded the academy.

"Same thing as you." Jared told him with a chuckle. "Lagging behind."

"You don't look especially unfit." Jon commented, observing the body of his fellow student with clever eyes. Jared was not overweight like he was, but he was also not as muscular, especially around the leg area. "You have the body of a normal teenage boy."

"Thanks for noticing." Jared said with an awkward chuckle.

"Anyway, aren't you the Progenitor's son?" Jon asked, continuing with his question. "Did he not train you for this sort of thing?"

Jared gave him a look that said more than any words could possibly get across. It took nothing more for Jon to understand the matter.

"Oh." He said with surprise.

"The only thing my father ever taught me was that he would never be there for me." Jared stated in a quiet and hate filled whisper. He averted his eyes from his fellow students, staring ahead with contempt at the distant runners. "He didn't spend a day raising me. He was always out working, always away from home. It was always my mother who would look after me, and when she passed away he hired a maid to do the parental stuff for him. He didn't even go to her funeral. If he couldn't find the time to teach me to walk, I doubt he would find the time to teach me to run."

Jon was quiet. There was no response he could utilize for such a remark. A high intelligence did not account for an expansive understand of social communication. He supposed that there was nothing he could say at this point, nothing that related to the subject that could make Jared feel any better.

"I don't imagine its easy being the child of a hero." Jon said, trying to continue the conversation. "Not just the Progenitor, but any hero. I mean, they would be out a lot of the time, fighting crime, stopping villains and serving justice. That must make any child feel left out."

Jared looked at him, and for a moment he looked to be considering the subject. He respond with a shrug. "I suppose." He muttered. It seemed to Jon that Jared had no interest in discussing the matter further. He had already opened up about the dysfunction within his family and the absence of his biological mother. He showed no interest in discussing in further, and looked away from Jon in thought.

There was a moment of quiet between the two boys, as they continued to run in a futile attempt to catch up. The both of them were at the very back of the class, though they were slowly gaining upon the girl in the wheelchair.

Eventually, after crossing another seventy five metres of track, Jared asked a question of his own.

"Are there any heroes in your family?"

Jon turned to him. "Only the one." He said.

"Which one." Jared asked.

Jon thoughtfully nibbled his lower lip. He wasn't sure if he should discuss such a matter with a fellow student yet. Though Jared had been open with him, even if by accident, so Jon decided to show the same respect back.

"Do you know of the hero Supermassive?" Jon asked, wiping his forehead as sweat began to dribble down from it.

"Yeah." Jared said. "I used to read the comics based on him."

Jon nodded with pride. "He's my uncle."

Jared looked at him, impressed. "No kidding?" He muttered with awe.

Jon gave an embarrassed, blushing smile. "It's the truth." He said quietly "Supermassive is a relative of mine."

"The number two hero, Supermassive, is your uncle?" Jared nodded, impressed. His eyes scanned the boy up and down, noticing Jon's strange pyramid feet. "Now that you mention it, I can see the resemblance."

Jon bit down upon his lip, causing the skin to break slightly. "Well, technically he's not my uncle." He admitted. "He's my mother's cousin. He asked to be referred to as my uncle." Jon gave a small chuckle. "That's not quite as impressive anymore, is it?"

"No, it's still awesome!" Jared told him with eyes full of reverence. "I wish I was related to Supermassive! Did you ever read his comics? There was this one issue where he used his Quirk to pin this giant criminal underneath a small pebble, and this other chapter when…"

"I don't really read comics." Jon interrupted awkwardly.

Jared looked at him with embarrassment. "Oh. Never mind then." He said quietly. He then gave a small chuckle. "I must seem like nothing you expected. You probably thought I would be some hulking, muscular, omnipresent god, just like my father."

Jon thought about that comment. From what he'd seen of Jared already, his timid personality and disliking of attention, his lack of a Quirk and his defensiveness because of it, he supposed that his comment was correct. If Jon had heard of him before he met him he would have expected something very different. He knew that a comment like that would not exactly please Jared, however, so instead he told him something much more true.

"Expectations are bullshit." Jon stated him with a laugh. "People shouldn't make up ridiculous expectations of others based upon what _they_ are capable of. We all have our own problems and struggles in life, our own strengths and weaknesses. Judging people based upon _our_ capabilities will do nothing but hurt them and hinder everyone else."

Jared gave him a strange look, not one of confusion or distaste but one of stunned joy. He laughed loudly, a massive smile on his face.

"Where have you been all my life?" He asked humorously.

"Sorry?" Jon said.

"You're the first person to tell me that." Jared explained. "I've had my father's judgement looming over me for as long as I can remember. I wish he could see things like you do. It would make my life much easier."

"Is your father very demanding of you?" Jon inquired.

Jared rolled his eyes. "Quite the opposite. He expects nothing from me, and that's much worse. I've always wanted to be a hero, just like him, but he never tried to support me. This morning he told me that he would offer me no support upon this course. He wouldn't even drive me to the academy."

"That's really harsh." Jon said with a sympathetic wince. He often found it difficult just to walk down the street to the supermarket and back. He had no idea where Jared lived, but for all he knew he could live on the opposite side of Galafrei, maybe in a different city entirely, though he didn't imagine that his father was _that_ cruel. If Jon had been forced to walk that far he would have given up, knowing he would never make it before the school day ended. "It's strange that he wouldn't try and help you. I would think the number one hero would want to see his son develop his own career."

"It's because I'm Quirkless. He doesn't think I can manage it." Jared explained, annoyed. "Yet he's happy to help my brother, who doesn't even want to become a hero. I don't even know what my brother's Quirk is, but apparently he's better suited to becoming a hero than I am."

Jon narrowed his brow. "You don't know your brother's Quirk?" He asked, confused.

"No." Jared admitted. "He told me he would show it to me on a very special day, when it was necessary for him to use it for the first time." Jared shrugged. "He's ten years old. He's probably just shy. That or he's trying to play a game with me and make me guess."

One of Jared's previous comments had set of the spark of an idea within Jon's mind. He gave a small snicker, and took a powerful step ahead of him."

"Well, here's one way to prove your father wrong." He said with a smile. "Race me to the end of the track. If you beat me you'll have proved your father wrong."

Jared looked at him, smiling awkwardly. "If I beat you I will still come second to last. That's not really saying much."

"True." Jon smiled back. "But it's a start, is it not."

Jon wasn't sure what Jared's response to this suggestion would be, but as he looked at him, watching him land heel first and roll onto the ball of his feet and push off with his toes, he saw his smile grow slightly more excited and eager.

"You're on, metal legs!" He called ahead fervently. "Last one there has to do ten burpees."

"Think you can manage that?" Jon asked, mocking Jared's thinner, less muscular body. Jared laughed back at him.

"That's my line!" Jared retorted, looking at Jon's heavy metal feet.

The two boys shared a wry grin, and with no other words turned to the track, their brains focused upon propelling their bodies as fast as they could along the track, wanting to outrun the other.

Neither of them were going especially far especially fast, Jon struggling with the weight of his feet and Jared trying to catch a breath between every footfall. They had only gained a few miles an hour in speed, and within five minutes they had made it as far as the rest of the class had been when they started talking. Ahead of them were the few other struggling students; the girl in the wheelchair, the gothic both and the overdressed girl. Having been advised by Jon on how to run better, Jared was starting to outrun him, passing him on occasion and making it a few extra metres, only to lose his breath and slow down, allowing Jon to catch up again. It seemed odd at first that he wouldn't keep going. Jon noticed that he was getting faster and breathing better. He could try and catch up with the other students if he wanted to. Yet he seemed content at the back of the class, running slowly beside the metal footed boy. Jon wasn't too sure why. He had a reason for being so far behind, but Jared didn't. That suggested that he was choosing to slow down.

By the time they reached the halfway point, where Jason Jones had made a craterous valley of the track with his Air Cannon Quirk, the rest of the class had already finished. They were standing upon the asphalt square, watching the remaining few students arrive and cheering them on. Only a few of them were left running, the five students lagging behind and a couple of others who were just reaching the finish line. Jared and Jon had only just managed to catch up with the girl in the wheelchair, who despite the slipper grass and unstable earth was still racing forwards.

"Catching up finally?" She asked as they reached her.

"Just about." Jon panted.

"And I thought I would come last." She joked, glancing back at Jon's metal feet. "Must be my lucky day."

"Must be." Jon agreed. "It seems a bit unfair they would make you go through this." He told her. "I mean, considering your situation."

She laughed at him. "If I really wanted to I could ditch the wheelchair and run on my hands." She told him with a cheeky grin. "I've been practicing at home. Would be fun to show off like everyone else."

Jared and Jon glanced at her lap, and saw that underneath a small pale pink blanket she did indeed still have legs, though they were stick like and frail, nothing more than skin and bone. Jon imagined it would be a weird sight to see her running upon her hands while dragging her immobile legs behind her.

"It was Freya, wasn't it?" He asked, trying to recall the names mentioned in the registration. She had been sat next to him on the front row, close to the door for what he assumed to be the same reason as himself: neither of them could move easily. She, of course, had the desk at the very end of the row, while Jon had the second from the end. It was only polite to save that seat for her.

"That's it." The girl told him. "Freya Westergaard. Your name was Jon, if I recall?"

"Jon Laverick." He said, nodding back.

"And Jared Wreath." She continued, sacrificing a hand to point at the black haired boy for a brief moment, before almost swerving to the left and running a wheel over his foot. "You've made a bit of an impression with everyone, I see."

"Not the impression I wanted to make." Jared told her with embarrassment.

She laughed at him, but with a kindly, jovial tone that Jared was surprised by. "They'll forget about it within a month." She told him. "By then they'll have gotten to know you. Everyone makes a bad first impression." She looked down at her deteriorated legs. "For example, the simple fact that I am bound to this wheelchair gives people the immediate impression that I am weak." She laughed. "Oh how wrong they are."

Jon wasn't quite sure what she meant by that. Certainly being disabled did not make one less human or less capable. Other than her legs, the rest of her body seemed healthy. She had short, scruffy blond hair, dark blue eyes, a rigid nose, thick brown eyebrows, pale skin and a slim torso hidden under a thin sweater. As for her personality, she seemed rather cheerful. Evidently the difficulty in her mobility was not dampening her spirit. Though the way she said it, it sounded like she was implying another kind of strength. He could only speculate as to what her Quirk was, though he felt it would be rude to ask so early into their conversation. It was likely her Quirk was a less physical or obvious one, and since she had not wanted to show it off earlier he felt it would be unfair to pressure her into explaining it.

"So, what made you both choose this place?" She asked, as the three of them continued their cautious journey along the upturned track. "I expect my reason's obvious. Most hero schools don't accept disabled students… not my sort of disabled anyway."

"I didn't have the mobility to make it into any other schools." Jon explained. "These legs don't really allow for it."

"You both already know my reason." Jared told them, looking ashamed by the subject. They looked at him. Freya shrugged and smiled sympathetically.

"I'm surprised no other schools would make an exception for you." She said. "I mean, I know you're Quirkless, but surely they'd want to have the son of Britain's strongest hero as a student. I imagine that would bring them a lot of media attention."

"You can blame my father for that." Jared told them. "He wasn't especially keen for me to become a hero."

"Really?" Freya asked in surprise. "If I were him I would be encouraging you every day."

"But you aren't him." Jared said solemnly.

Jon and Freya looked at each other awkwardly. Jared seemed to fade off into his own mind after that statement, and whatever he was thinking about was making him visibly angry.

"He ought to be proud of you." Jon said after a moment. This snapped Jared out of his thoughts and looked at him. "I mean, you made it this far. You're actually at a school for training heroes. How many Quirkless people can say that?"

Jared looked at him, contemplating what he had suggested.

"So that girl you were chatting with this morning?" Freya interrupted with a tone of mischievous curiosity. "Who is she to you?"

Jared looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Who? Maisie?" He said.

"Are you two, like… you know?" She gave him a knowing wink. "An item?"

It took a moment for Jared to understand what she was suggesting. Then he blushed like a summer sunset. "No!" He exclaimed with shock. "God, no. Nothing like that. She's just a friend. We met while preparing for the Entrance Exam."

"Isn't it a bit personal to ask him something like that?" Jon told her with an expression of displeasure.

Freya gave him a false apologetic smile. "Don't worry about it. I was just being nosy." She said, her upbeat attitude not faltering for a second. "Where's your friend now?"

Jared looked ahead. Indeed most of the other students were ahead of them. Almost all of them had finished by this point. The last few members of the class were making it to the finish line. It was one of them who Jared pointed towards.

"There." He said in-between gasps for breath. Jon and Freya followed the direction of his finger. At the end of it, across the other side of the field, was a girl in a flowery summer dress with long brown hair. She had only just reached the finish line, ahead of the gothic boy and overdressed girl, and was keeling forwards gasping for breath.

"Looks like she's just finished." Jon said.

"And we'd better catch up." Freya said, putting on a rather grim expression. "Well come on. We're the last three running – or rolling in my case. It's not fun always coming last."

"You're telling me." Jon muttered with a chuckle.

"And me." Said Jared. They looked at him.

"Do you often come last?" Jon asked.

"Oh yeah." Jared said. "All the time."

"Well, let's see which of us doesn't come last then." Freya said with a massive grin. She gripped the rim of her wheels with tight hands and pushed them forward, gaining a fraction of speed with each turn. "Race you to the end!"

Jon and Jared looked at each other.

"Well, you heard her." Jared joked with him. "Our bet still stands. Last one to the line does twenty burpees."

"We said ten earlier." Jon reminded him.

Jared gave him a cheeky grin, not too different to the one upon Freya's face. "It's twenty now. Come on, she's beating us!"

Jared sprinted forwards in a sudden burst of speed, gaining a whole two feet in distance from Jon. Jon watching him and chuckled. It seemed that the boy who had been rather miserable looking before they started running had now found some form of joy in the thrill of exercise. Not wanting to be the last student to finish the track and perform twenty squat thrusts in front of the class, Jon put his best foot forward and pushed off with a surprising amount of strength. Each footfall was a small quake as the weight and force of his iron feet struck the soft earth with their full weight.

In little time at all he had caught up with Jared, who had been forced to slow down once more to catch his breath. Freya was already far ahead, just about to reach the finish line, where the rest of the class were waiting for them. The two boys were on the last one hundred metres, sprinting down a straight line of whitened grass back towards the asphalt.

As they reached the final stretch the two of them were neck and neck, clashing shoulders and avoiding misplaced feet. Freya had now crossed the line, and only the two of them were left. Jon was doing the best he could to keep up, but it was quickly becoming clear that Jared was outrunning him. He was slowly gaining distance, little by little, inch by inch. Jon was already resigned to loose. He had come last so many times before. One more last place wouldn't hurt him that much.

Then, to his surprise, Jared suddenly stopped. He landed on his left foot and paused in place, his right falling beside it. Jon assumed he was out of breath, but as he passed him he realised that was not the case. He was stood with his hoodie in hand, and with a slow footstep he began to walk to the end. Jon had just enough speed to pass him and reach the finish line first, but he didn't turn his eyes away from him. He couldn't understand why Jared had stopped. His head was held low, looking at the grass.

The class moved aside as Jon skidded to a hard stop, feet digging up the earth as he attempted to slow down. He very nearly tripped over and bowled into one of the girls who hadn't moved aside quickly enough. As he stood back up, wiping mud from his heavy feet, he saw Jared walk down the track and pass the finish line. He had come last.

"Look who it is!" Jason exclaimed with wide, exaggerating arms. His palms were red raw and shaking. "It's Progenitor Junior, at the very back of the class. Who would've thought it, child of the best hero in the country, and he comes last."

"But this wasn't a race." The spiny boy, Philip, said with an honest yet cracking with nervousness voice.

"I know that." Jason said, turning on him "But I would've still expect more." He turned back to Jared. "Some hero you'll make. You can't even run a track."

Jared just stood there, taking the insults. Jon was surprised that he wasn't reacting, but he wondered if Jared how dealing with it internally. Was he reflecting the insults like a shell or absorbing them like a sponge? One of the girls ran over to his side, and almost reached to grab him, and then stopped herself awkwardly.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trying to look into his face as he leaned forwards, panting heavily. He waved her away, patting her shoulder by accident.

"I'm okay." He told her. He looked up and gave her a small smile. She smiles back, and backed away to give him some space.

The three teachers had appeared on the scene now, and the louder and more rambunctious members of the class had quietened down as they approached.

"Great Vork, everyone." Said Dubstep, clapping his hands together. "Vell done."

As Jon re-joined the chatting, excited group of students, he was left wondering why Jared had stopped so suddenly. The both of them had made a bet if one of them was to lose, and he had seemed especially eager not to come last. He would have to ask him the first chance he got. Ravenhead and Aries were now approaching the class, and the avian hero folded his arms and spoke to them.

"I think we've done enough for the day." He said, a proud smile spreading across his face, distorted by his thick beak. "I don't think we should push you too hard on the first day. We do still have fifteen minutes till twelve though, so we'll set up one more small exercise for the lot of you. After that you can all head home early."

Aries walked around the class, and sat down upon the asphalt floor a few feet from the students. "If you wish to leave early then, by all means, do so." He said casually. "Your first lesson will start tomorrow at nine, so don't be late. You will all be expected to turn up, and if anyone is absent we will know and we will arrange a fitting punishment."

The students looked at each other with either a cocky or nervous expression, as each of them seemed to react to this threat in their own unique way. A few of the students began splitting off, heading towards the changing rooms in preparation to head home.

"The rest of you who are staying, you are to continue exercising. Do whatever you wish, be it push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks or squats. Once the clock hits twelve you are free to go." Aries continued, fiddling with the cufflink on his left sleeve.

Jon was already tired out from the running, and he would have planned on leaving right then if he hadn't noticed Jared taking a space upon the asphalt away from the other students. He was lying upon his chest and holding himself up with only his arms. He lowered himself slowly till his nose was scraping the ground, then pushed himself up again. He followed by sliding his legs up till he was crouching, then standing and jumping, tucking his knees into his chest. Jon was surprised to realise that he was carrying out the bet they had made and performing the twenty burpees they had agreed upon. Jon would not have minded if Jared had forgotten or had chosen to ignore their bet and leave. He had enjoyed their conversation and their race together. Jared's dedication to the ridiculous suggestion shocked him, and since he would be staying Jon decided to help him out.

He walked over to Jared, and calmly lay down beside him, holding himself in the same position. Jared look at him, confused.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Joining you." Said Jon

"Why?" Jared continued.

Jon smiled at him. "I thought you're want some company. I didn't really care about the bet anyway. I would've done this without you suggesting it."

The both of them were quiet for a moment, as Jon and Jared bog began performing the squat thrusts they had agreed upon. Most of the other students had chosen to leave. Only a few others remained, including George Asher and Jason Jones, who were challenging each other to do as many push-ups as they could.

"Why did you stop running?" Jon asked, pausing to look at Jared after the fifth squat thrust. "You were nearly at the finish line. Why did you let me pass you?"

Jared casually looked him in the eyes and smiled.

"It didn't fell right." He said simply. "I couldn't let you come last like that. It wouldn't have been fair."

"But we were racing." Jon said in shock. "The both of us were at the very back. Why was that not fair?"

"Because you have a reason to be slow." Jared said in an oddly apologetic voice. "I don't really have a reason. I'm just unfit. You have to drag those things around with every step." He pointed at Jon's metal hooves. "And after you told me that you always came last, I didn't feel good about making you come last again."

This was the first time that Jon had been wordlessly stunned by something Jared had said. It would not be the last.

"But… But you also said you usually came last. You were about to cross the finish line. Why let me win?"

Jared chuckled. "Honestly, I don't really know. I just felt it was the right thing to do. I was enjoying our conversation. I didn't really want to ruin that by beating you to the end of the track."

Jon blinked at him. He had no response for that. This boy, the son of a famous hero, had selflessly chosen to lose a race so that someone else could feel better about themselves. The decision behind that was stunning to him. He hadn't expected it, least of all from someone like him. There was much about Jared he found surprising, not just the fact that he was the Progenitor's Quirkless son. There was this odd glimmer in his eyes. This strange kind of invulnerable determination. It was noticeable in every word and every look. An hour before Jon would have had no reason to believe that Jared was a capable hero, yet after a long conversation with him during the middle of a test he had come to notice the few aspects of his personality that suggested he could indeed make it as a capable hero. These aspects must have been why the academy had accepted him in the first place.

But Jon was not going to accept Jared's gracious defeat so easily. He admired him for making such a decision, but it was not his place to make it. Jon Laverick could not modestly accept this as the first time he had not come last in the race. The next time he ran he would beat last place through his own efforts. The next time he would achieve it off his own accord.


	13. Chapter 11 - History of Quirks & Heroes

**Maisie Collard**

* * *

Her first day at Broadhurst Heroism Academy had, if nothing else, been an interesting one. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting from a new hero training school, or from any training school for that matter. She had been excited on the morning, but also very nervous. This was usually the case for a teenager starting further education at a new college. Though in Maisie's case, her anxiety had less at first to do with the students and was caused more by her fear and uncertainty of what her teachers would be expecting from her. She didn't know much about hero work, so she was nervous about what they might have her do.

She had turned up early on the day, which was something her mother had suggested. Being late on the first day of school never set a good impression. Then she had waited for Jared to arrive, while avoiding any attempts at conversation the other students made. She had known before beginning the course that a lot of physical lessons would be required, but up until the moment she had not understood what that entailed. After the embarrassment of explaining her Quirk to the other students, she was then faced with the challenge of running the entire track around the sports field. She wasn't sure how long the field was, but the track must have been a few thousand metres in length. Maisie was not especially experienced with long distance running. By the time she had reached its end she was suffering with cramp in several sensitive spots across her body, mild dehydration, dizziness, exhaustion, sore feet and an oncoming headache. Though to her astonishment she had not come last. She had been at the very back of the main group, yet there were a few behind her who were doing worse. As she came to a stop at the asphalt finish line, and turned back to welcome in the final runners, she noticed that Jared was one of them. That had surprised her a lot, though it surprised her even more to see him come last.

She had not managed to speak with Jared before leaving that day. Though she had been able to catch him for a moment after the race had ended, the teachers had continued with the lesson quickly after, and she felt it would be rude to talk over them. Yet for some reason Jared had decided to stay behind after that and continue exercising. Maisie had wanted to head home and rest, as her legs were starting to itch with soreness. When she left the changing room he was still there at the edge of the asphalt, doing squat thrusts with another boy who had feel made of solid iron blocks. She was not sure who the boy was, though she had noticed that the both of them were the last two students to finish running the track. It seemed that Jared was already making friends, while she had been too nervous to even try talking to any of the other girls in the class. She had been given a perfect chance to start chatting with them when she accidentally bumped into one of them while trying to remove her polo shirt, yet she had not taken the initiative. She hadn't even apologised. The girl, who had short red hair, had looked at her with annoyance and stepped away. There was only one student at the academy she had spoken to other than Jared, and that was Tate. She wasn't sure just yet if she would call him a friend. He was rather too intrusive, and it made her feel very uncomfortable.

That evening Maisie had returned home with a horrid pain in her legs. She spent the rest of the day lying in bed, squirming uncomfortable as the lactic acid which had been building up inside her muscles created a burning sensation in her legs. Her mother had provided her with a hot water bottle, hoping that it would help calm down the pain, or at least distract her from it. Both of Maisie's parents had been surprisingly supportive of her more recent endeavours. While the both of them, her father especially, worried about her safety, they had taken a more encouraging stance after learning of her enrolment within Broadhurst Heroism Academy. Though they were still unsure if Maisie was capable of becoming a hero, at least they were trying to assist her. They had agreed to take her to a local forge when she wanted to make her gadgets, where qualified engineers and metalsmiths could assist her and make sure she didn't hurt herself. Her mother would drop her of at the academy on her way to work, then pick her up on the way back. Neither of her parents were rich, smart or free for time, but with the course their daughter was on they did not have to be. Maisie didn't expect them to be capable of helping her with everything. As long as they were supporting her, that would be enough.

* * *

The next day she turned up to class and, with the other students, made her way to classroom Red-3, where they would be having there very first academic lesson. Ravenhead was already inside, planning out the lesson and making notes upon the whiteboard. A few of the students greeted him as Mr. Victorsson, and he greeted them back in a cheery manner. Though he had specified that this was how he was supposed to be addressed, Maisie couldn't help but find it strange. The man was a well-known hero. She could not think of his as anything but Ravenhead.

Most of the class had arrived by the time it reached ten o'clock. Jared arrived two minutes later, out of breath and sweating profusely. He had to awkwardly push past the other students on their row in order to reach his seat.

"Sorry." He muttered as he carefully avoided standing on the feet of the boy sat to Maisie's right. He only gave Jared an annoyed look, before glancing back towards the whiteboard. "I had to run all the way here again." Jared whispered to Maisie in admission, as he sat heavily down into his seat by the wall. "Have I missed anything?"

"We haven't started the lesson yet." Maisie whispered back.

Indeed Ravenhead had his attention away from the class, his thin fingers carefully and awkwardly gripping a marker pen which he used to scrawl words upon the whiteboard. The occasional squeaking sound it made was quiet yet aggravating, as if someone was stepping on a mouse. When he was done, at about five minutes passed the hour, he finally turned to acknowledge the class. The hero smiled at them, and held his arms out invitingly.

"Welcome, everyone, to our first lesson on the History of Quirks and Heroes." He announced with a loud, enthusiastic tone. "I'm hoping you are all as excited as I am, as this subject is incredibly fascinating." He clapped his hands together with eager delight for the topic he would be teaching. "Feel free to write down any notes. Remember, you will be taking exams on these subjects in a few months' time."

Maisie reached an arm down towards her small bag by her feet, and from within she pulled out a pink notepad. The cover had pictures of unicorns on it. She looked awkwardly at Jared, who was staring at the thing in disgust.

"Mum bought it for me." She admitted with embarrassment. She flipped the cover over, wanting to hide it from view as quickly as she could. Thankfully the pages within were clean, lined A5 slips, not detailed with pink glitter or horned equine.

Jason Jones' hand shot up sharply, releasing a weak blast of accidental air into the roof. If the action had not caught the attention of the entire class then the sound certainly had. The boy looked at Ravenhead inquisitively. "Why do we need to learn about this?" He asked, with a voice that hid none of the boredom upon his face.

The class turned back to Ravenhead, wondering what his response would be.

"Well, obviously, it takes more than muscle and confidence to make someone into a capable hero." The teacher explained. "Having a strong knowledge of historical figures and events is vital for any newcomer to the world of heroism. You'll need to know of the heroes who came before you, not only so you can create your own unique identity within an already saturated career, but also so you are aware of the events which created the current world we live in and how those events have affected our current society. In order to protect people, keep the peace and serve justice it is essential to understand why all those things are the way they are. This is what this subject will be looking at." He tilted his head, giving Jason a knowing look. "And I would suggest staying awake, Mr Jones. These lectures are compulsory, and if you fail the exams at the end of the term I'm afraid you may have to retake them till you do."

That last threat had gotten the message through to him. Jason Jones lowered his hand, now rather more interested than he had been before. Ravenhead coughed and continued on with the beginning of his lesson.

"I'm assuming that most, if not all of you, already know the basic history of the previous hundred years. Would anyone be up for recounting some of it?"

The hand of Lavender Marshall rose from above the crowd of heads. Ravenhead gestured for her to stand and speak. She stood up, eyes closed, and turned her face downwards, as if recalling passages from a book.

"Quirks were first discovered one hundred years ago, after a child was born with an unusual and unaccountable power. No one is completely sure which country the first Quirk was born in, as it seems each country has its own version of the story. Some believe they came from China, others from India, and some suggest Africa as well. Soon afterwards, other similar individuals began to appear, usually children born upon the same year or soon after. With each passing year more and more people developed Quirks, some as toddlers, some as children and some as late as early adulthood. By the time ten years had passed, it was estimated that twenty percent of the human population around the world had developed a Quirk."

"Thank you very much for that summary, Lavender." Ravenhead said, nodding his beaked skull at her.

Lavender sat back down, looking very pleased with herself. The redheaded girl next to her gave her a small glare of jealously from the corner of her eyes, then looked forwards at the teacher and whiteboard once more.

"It was indeed the case that, in the early years of their discovery, nobody was quite sure what to make of these powers." Ravenhead continued. "Records from the time show that Quirks were spreading like wildfire among the populous, so quickly that within a year two percent of the British population had developed one. In fact this is what lead to the belief that these powers were the result of a disease or virus, as it seemed that powers were spreading upon contact. This view quickly faded after a year or two, as genetic research discovered that actually these powers were originating from an abnormal mutation within our DNA. It became clear that this unusual strand of coding is programmed into every human being, and for a reason yet to be discovered it has only just activated. In addition to this, it appears that another part of the body has begun to degenerate. In place of a Quirk, those who develop one are often born with one less joint in their small toe. It has long been theorised that humanity is slowly losing its smaller digits, as we no longer need them as we once did. It is possible that the original coding once needed to create the structure of a small toe within our bodies has taken on a new job. I should add that this is all speculation. While it is known that there is a link between Quirks and the lack of a small toe joint, as Quirkless individuals more often than not still have this joint, there is no explanation yet as to how they are connected. To this day nobody is quite sure what caused Quirks to come into existence, and most aren't even sure as to why they exist." Ravenhead clapped his hands together. "So, let's discuss it. Does anyone have any theories?"

Maisie put her hand up. She noticed Jared look at her in surprise. He evidently had not expected her to be so eager to answer. Ravenhead nodded at her, letting her speak. Maisie lowered her hand and stood up, trying not to look too nervous as the class turned their eyes towards her. "My science teacher, Mr Barrows, used to tell us that Quirks were a new step in our evolution." She stuttered anxiously.

Ravenhead raised an eyebrow, then nodded at her in agreement. "That is one of the more popular opinions." He agreed. "The leading theory around the world is that humanity has begun to evolve in a new direction, except unlike in the past where evolution would lead our species down one very specific path, it is instead splitting off into many new paths, each with its own strengths and weaknesses in comparison to the previous ancestor. This may be why every person born with a Quirk has a power, ability or body part that varies in some form of manner to anyone else. Even if their Quirk is one inherited by their parents, it will vary from the original in some minute way."

He gestured for Maisie to sit down, and she did so quickly, grateful that the eyes of her fellow students were now turning away.

"Some would suggest that Quirks are complete proof that the theory of Evolution is true." Ravenhead continued to explain. "However, there are some who believe that Quirks are a gift from god, and not a result of unusual genetic coding. I myself am not a religious man, though neither am I opposed to the idea of Quirks being a gift from a greater entity. Most of the evidence suggests that this occurrence is natural, however, and that Quirks are simply another step upon the evolution of our species."

The avian teacher turned to his board, and upon the far left side began scrawling a series of notes.

"Though while I would love to go off on a tangent about the many scientific theories on Quirks and Human Evolution, we have two other important and fascinating subjects to look at today."

He turned back to the class, revealing the words upon the board. _'The First Hero in Britain.'_

"In order to get a full view of the history behind the last hundred years of this country, it's best to start at the beginning." Ravenhead stated, and stretched his arms out wide, his wing feathers drooping down. "I have a simple question for you all. What was the name of the first hero in Britain?"

A show of hands shot up. From the mass of limbs Ravenhead picked out one.

"Go on, John." He said, pointing a sharp talon at a bald-headed boy with a third, closed eye upon his forehead.

The boy stood up, lowered his hand and looked uncomfortably around at the class. "Heracles." He said with a small nervous cough.

"Quite right." Ravenhead stated, clicking his fingers in enjoyment. "You can sit down now."

The bald boy sat back down, rubbing his chin nervously.

"Heracles was the name of the first official hero in Britain." Ravenhead carried on with the lecture. "Though his real name was James Smith, he took his hero name from Greek Mythology. The original Heracles is, of course, famous for his great strength and for the twelve labours which he undertook in order to be granted immortality. Upon his death bed, the hero Heracles stated that he chose the name not because of his own enhanced strength but because of the many trials he had faced in life that had led him to becoming the first hero."

Ravenhead clenched his wrinkled hands together and flexed his fingers. The class were listening to him with intense curiosity. Even Jason Jones, who had at first been uninterested, was now paying his fullest attention to the well-dressed raven man.

"He remained the number one hero for twenty five years, longer than any other who came after him. That's no easy task. Even the renowned Progenitor has only held his throne for twenty years. I doubt any of you will know much about the previous number one hero."

Maisie looked at Jared. She wondered if he knew about the previous number one hero, considering that his father was the current number one and would have had to overthrow him to get there. Though, from what Jared had told her about his parent, she supposed it was also possible that he would never consider discussing the subject with him. Jared had described his father, the _real_ Progenitor Wreath, as a selfish, absent, ignorant bastard. Maisie had never heard someone refer to their parent in such a way. It had shocked her greatly.

"In his thirty three year career as a hero, Heracles changed many aspects of our culture and country." Ravenhead continued. "Most famously, he was the founding member of the Hero Movement, the very law which allows licensed individuals outside of the police or military to fight criminals and deal with dangerous situations. His involvement with the way the laws upon heroes were founded allowed for greater freedoms to all heroes throughout England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland." He rubbed his hands together. "Can someone tell me one of the laws he established?"

From the second row a hand shot up. Ravenhead nodded towards the student, who quickly stood up. An Asian boy with a small pair of glasses that sat comfortable upon his thick nose stood up before the class, arms folded behind his back. When he spoke, it was with an intellectual voice that lacked any anxiety or fear, as if he was the only person in the room. "The first law that Heracles put into action was the distribution of Hero Licenses." He stated factually. "These licenses were to be supplied to any individual who had displayed capability of performing heroic acts and had been evaluated by the government as fit to perform them with the safety of the public in mind. The law decrees that a hero must show their license to anyone who asks to see it, as proof that they are indeed a legally permitted hero."

"Thank you, Lu." Ravenhead said gratefully.

The students bowed slightly and sat back down. A few members of the class looked at him with jealous annoyance. Most people couldn't stand smart alecks, and this boy was irradiating knowledge and pride.

"Some may say that this law was the most important of all the laws Heracles founded." Continued the avian teacher. "Thanks to him, heroes would not have to suffer continuous harassment from the police or government officials. If they were to be questioned, they could just pull out their license as prove that they were indeed legal heroes."

He suddenly reached into his pocket, and from it he pulled out a laminated piece of white plastic. He held it out for the class to see. Upon it was the logo of the Hero Movement; a yellow H within a shattered black circle. There was a photo of Ravenhead in his hero costume, an ID number and both his real and hero name. At the very bottom of the license was the name of his Quirk.

"This is my Hero License." The teacher explained, grinning with slight embarrassment. "I'm afraid this is not my best picture. I was having stomach problems on the day it was taken. I look a little too uncomfortable. Usually I don't grimace so much when taking a photo."

A hand from the front shot up. Maisie realised that it belonged to the girl in the wheelchair.

"Mr. Victorsson?" She asked.

"Yes, Freya?" Ravenhead responded.

"Why is your Quirk labelled as _Dark Quill Dart_?"

Ravenhead looked at the license, then smiled awkwardly.

"Well…" He said with the chuckle. "That's because my Quirk is a bit more than just a cosmetic one. I imagine you expected it to be called something like _Raven_ , didn't you." He held up his arm, putting on display the long feathers which spread out from his arm, turning it into a thick, black wing. "Of course there are Quirks that simply gives a person the features of an animal. Aries has one of those Quirks. His is called _Ram_ , and all it does is give him a ram's horns and back feet, as well as a lot of body hair. Mine has an extra effect, however." He extended the same arm outward. "I can fire the feathers from my arms at will, throwing them like darts at my target." He continued to explain. "That's what my true Quirk is. The raven exterior is merely an addition to it, similar to how George's Quirk is not his dog features but his flammable saliva."

George Asher held up a clenched fist in a symbolic display of respect, which got a few chuckles from the class.

Ravenhead lowered his arms and quickly put the license back into his pocket before the class could start laughing at his awful photo.

"I didn't know Quirks could behave like that." Jared whispered to Maisie. "I mean, I knew they could have additional effects, but I wasn't aware that they could affect your body in multiple ways. I always thought that Ravenhead's Quirk made him look like a Raven. I wonder what other heroes have Quirks that behave this…"

"Shut up." Hissed the boy next to Maisie with a slow, angry whisper. "I'm trying to listen."

To Jared's surprise, he shut up. He said nothing else for about an hour. Maisie wasn't sure why he wasn't talking, and it seemed that he didn't know either. Maybe he was embarrassed for being told off by another student. Whatever the reason, he was now paying attention once more to the lesson. The boy beside her sighed with annoyance, and leaned his elbow upon his desk with his hand upon his face.

"So, Heracles was most famous for the laws he put in place specifying what Heroes were legally allowed to do." Continued Ravenhead, straightening the feathers upon his arm in a routinely careful manner. "As well as creating the Hero License, he also specified what a hero can and cannot do when facing criminals, villains or hazards. I will not go too far into this today, as we'll be studying it in depth during our Quirk Law lesson on Friday." He paused for breath. "However, there was one other thing which Heracles did, that had a greater impact upon our society than creating the Hero Movement. Could anyone tell me what it was?"

There was silence from the class. For the first time, there was no one who could answer him.

Ravenhead shrugged his head. "I wouldn't have expected you to." He admitted. "Unlike his involvement with Hero Laws, this next event is rarely associated with him." He paused for dramatic effect. "Heracles was one of the founders of the London Wall. Not only did he sign for its construction, he helped build it."

The reaction the class had was a mixture of stunned surprise and unsure confusion. Maisie knew about the London Wall, as did every other person in Galafrei, Great Britain, and maybe even Europe. The wall had been built ninety years ago to split the London Region in half. At the time the capital of the country had been in the midst an internal warfare, as the north and south sides began to riot against one another. She wasn't quite sure what the reason had been, but she knew that the fighting was both started by and fuelled by Quirks. In an attempt to regain order, the government had made plans to cordon off the north side with a massive wall. This had happened once before in recent history, during the Russian occupation of Berlin, though that situation had been much different. That incident had been caused by two opposing nations taking control over the city after a missive war, while this incident was caused by drastic infighting from the same country. With the region divided into two, it dissolved and formed into two new, massive cities, constructed upon the now separated region. The half on the south side of the wall became Galafrei, the new capital of England, a city full of money, hope and prosperity, where the Royal Family and Parliamentary buildings sat and ran the country. The north half became known as Scarow, a city of poverty, riots and criminals. Maisie had never been to Scarow, not that she would want to. The wall had been built around the entire city, to keep in the criminal syndicates and villains which had developed inside. She remembered seeing the structure only one. It must have reached a hundred feet into the air, made of solid concrete, tungsten and steel. She had heard before that several of the country's heroes would take up a post upon the wall from time to time, to make sure that no one was trying to climb it. She thought that you would have to be mad to attempt such a thing.

"The wall was built as a way of separating our two cities." Ravenhead continued. "The idea was not founded by Heracles himself, but he was one of the first heroes to support it. As you may guess, there was a lot of controversy involving the subject. Just over half of the heroes at the time agreed to sign for its construction, and within one year the wall was built around the entirety of northern London. At first the wall was made to stop the fighting, though since then it has continued to stand in the hopes that both cities may not clash again. The first time around the entire region was plunged into chaos. Nobody wants that to happen again."

Ravenhead wiped his brow, and put on a smile, hoping to take the subject in a more hopeful and cheerful direction.

"Many heroes spend more time working in Scarow rather than Galafrei. For whatever reason, more dangerous criminals seem to come from within the wall. Which brings us to the second topic of our lesson today."

He turned towards the whiteboard, and with a black marker pen he jotted down a series of words. The pen squeaked upon the board, and several students winced at the sound. After a moment the teacher turned back to his class and stood to the side of the board so that his students may read it. He read the words aloud.

"Quirk Danger Levels." He declared, pointing the pen underneath the title, underlining it with a swift movement. Underneath the title he had made a series of bullet points.

"Each and every country has its own way of categorizing the many types of Quirks" Ravenhead continued to explain, tapping the thick pen lid against the tip of his beak. "Here in the UK, we have a system that categorises Quirks by the danger they pose to the public. There are six categories in total, each with its own specific descriptions and requirements, ranging between the numbers zero to five. The higher the number, the more dangerous the Quirk."

He began scrawling a word beside the first bullet point. When he pulled away, the board now read _' Quirk Danger Levels. Type: 0.'_

"Can anyone tell me what the definition is for a Type Zero Quirk?" Ravenhead asked. There was a small show of hands from several seats in the front two rows. One of them was Lavender, though Ravenhead chose to give another student a chance to speak. Instead he picked the reptile girl in the seat in front of Jared. "Yes, Rylie." He said, pointing towards her.

The girl stood up, almost slapping Jared in the face with her tail. She didn't seem at all put off by the twenty five pairs of eyes staring at her, including those that belonged to Ravenhead and the ghostly Mitchell. In fact it seemed she quite liked the attention as she was smiling smugly and her tail was swinging eagerly from side to side. Jared had to duck to avoid it.

"Type Zero Quirks are Quirks that risk no chance of causing harm to any person. They are usually mild in nature and often cosmetic, posing no possibility of accidental or purposeful injury to another individual."

"Very good. You can sit down now." Ravenhead said in praise.

As Rylie sat down once more, Ravenhead began writing a series of notes besides the bullet points. Next to the bullet point of Type Zero Quirks now read the notes _'Non-Hazardous, Cosmetic, Mild, Harmless.'_

"Type Zero Quirks are especially unique, as very few of them exist." Ravenhead explained as he turned back to the class. "In order for a Quirk to classify as a Type Zero it has to be completely benign, offering no possibility of even slightly grazing another person. Usually Quirks come with all sorts of unique complications. Fire breath runs the risk of causing burns to another person or yourself, enhanced strength could easily lead someone to accidentally bruise another, heightened speed could lead to tripping accidents, and so on. More often than not, a Type Zero Quirk will only affect the way someone looks. An example of a Type Zero Quirk would be one that made a person's skin change colour, or gave them an extra finger. Does anybody here know if their Quirk is classified as a Type Zero?"

Only one hand arose from the class. The hand of the boy with the moth wings. The class looked at him with mild surprise.

"It's not especially common for individuals with Type Zero Quirks to become heroes." Ravenhead told them. "Usually because the Quirk isn't especially useful for fighting crime, stopping crimes or rescuing civilians. In your case, Payton, Moth Wings would indeed be useful for all three of those things. Could you explain why your Quirk is a Type Zero?"

The moth boy, Payton, stood up. "My wings are not sturdy enough to harm anyone nor strong enough to let me fly high or carry anyone while flying. If I were to strike another person with them, it would be like whipping them with a thin sheet."

Maisie hadn't been expecting him to speak with such a strong, upper class accent. He looked so normal that it was surprising to her to think of him as a rich boy. From the back of the class Mitchell gave a small mocking snigger, but Payton payed him no attention.

"Thank you." Ravenhead said, and gestured for the boy to sit. "As explained, the Quirk itself poses no threat to any person. However, this rule does not apply to animals or plant life. For example, there is a hero called Overgrowth, whose Quirk acts like a pesticide, killing any plants he touches. His Quirk only effects plants however, and has no effect on humans or animals, and as such is registered as a Type Zero Quirk. He currently works in the Forest of Dean as a recovery hero, rescuing lost campers and preventing accidents from falling trees." He raised a curious finger. "What is lesser known about this category is that, while they have no Quirks themselves, Quirkless individuals are placed into this category when registered. If you were to look through a file of citizens within the country, you would see that all Quirkless citizens are labelled as having a Type Zero Quirk."

A few pairs of eyes turned to look at Jared, who lowered his head, not wanting the attention. At first Maisie hasn't known how tough it was being Quirkless, but within only a day at the academy she had seen enough to understand. Jared stood out like a sore thumb among a crowd of sparkling, glistening, golden thumbs. Though the looks he was getting were not those of hate or despise, as Jared had suggested. To her, they looked more like glances of apathy, as if they knew he was there but could not see him. Instead they saw a space where something should be, something which could be like them but had not made it there yet.

"Of course, an individual with a Type Zero Quirk is still capable of causing harm to others…" Ravenhead continued after a moment. "… People have been hurting each other long before Quirks were ever discovered… but in the case of a Type Zero Quirk the Quirk does nothing to increase this chance." He spun back around to face the board. "Which is where the category above comes in."

He jotted down the title of the next tier Quirk.

"Type One." He read aloud, as the pen finished spreading the black lines upon the whiteboard. "Similar to the level below it, Type One Quirks are harmless in themselves. The user will not be able to use the Quirk to directly harm others. However, the repercussions of using the Quirk could cause unforeseen or accidental injury. For example, an individual with a Quirk that allows them to shout at a high pitch wouldn't be able to directly hurt someone with their Quirk, but in using it they could do damage to their eardrums. This would make their Quirk a Type One and not a Type Zero. Even if the harm they could cause is small or unlikely, the fact that it could happen makes it a Type One. Does anyone in this room have a Type One Quirk?"

Most of the class were unresponsive, though one figure on the far left end of the front row did raise their hand. A boy with short blonde hair, dressed from top to bottom in pale brown clothing. He stood up quickly, and with a flamboyant, dramatic and mildly French accent, began explaining his Quirk.

"My Quirk, which is called _Rubber,_ makes my skin behave like rubber. It insulates electricity and allows any blunt objects that hits me to bounce back off. As well as this, I can also use it to jump very high and continuously upon any body part." He turned and winked at the class. "And I mean… any body part."

There was a small groan of disgust from the class as to what that comment suggested. Ravenhead blinked in surprised.

"Well… thank you for that, Jean. You may sit down now."

The boy stood standing for a few seconds longer before taking his Teacher's advice. After that unusual display, Ravenhead continued with the lesson.

"The next category above this is referred to as Type Two, the most commonly placed category for Quirks. They're the easiest to designate, as unlike the other categories Type Two Quirks are simple and obvious to define. A Type Two Quirk is one that the owner has complete control over, and is capable of being used to harm others but only if the user wishes. I imagine that most of you in here have a Type Two Quirk. My Quirk also falls into this category, as it can be used to hurt people but only if I want it to."

While he had been talking, Ravenhead had also been jotting down further notes upon the board. Beside the second bullet point was written _'Type: 1 – Accidental Injury, Mostly Benign, Docile'._ The bullet point below that had written _'Type: 2 – Most common Quirk Type, Controllable, Normal.'_ Next to the fourth bullet point Ravenhead had started to write down a new set of words. _'Type: 3'_

"Type Three Quirks differ from Type Twos in only one area. Type Three Quirks are either difficult to control or impossible to control. The user of a Type Three Quirk will be unable to control it freely in the way that a Type Two Quirk can, though they may have the ability to manipulate it to a certain extent. I don't imagine many of you here have a Type Three Quirk, though I suspect that those of you who do already know the sort of difficulties it can bring." Ravenhead paused, and focused his dark eyes upon a student at the back row. "Mr Anderson, since you're so eager to join in, why don't you enlighten us upon the fun of having a Type Three Quirk?"

The entirety of the class turned sharply around, all to focus their eyes upon the startled, half-asleep young man and his ghostly twin. Tate sat up sharply, whipping his head backwards of the table where he had been resting it, and stared back at them with the petrified expression of a student who had not been paying attention and had just been called out for it.

"What did you call me?" Mitchell said with an offended look at the teacher. "I'm no Type Three! I'm not diabetic!" There was a quiet chuckle from the class, but most of its members didn't as much as blink.

"Seeing as how your Quirk appears to be a blatant case of Type Three, I though you may be able to detail the sorts of problems that can come from having a power you cannot completely control." Ravenhead explained with raised feathery eyebrows. "Take your time. We can wait."

Tate was visibly growing agitated. He had the entire class's attention. Maisie was sat looking right into his face, and he was staring back at her, looking ready to crack with anxiety.

"Well, uh..." he muttered awkwardly. "I suppose... uh..." he stopped, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "Living with Mitchell is like having Tourette's. He randomly blurts out whatever he's thinking, and makes me look like an idiot."

There was a slightly larger laugh this time, which made Tate feel more reassured. Mitchell was not at all please, however.

"Thanks for throwing me under the bus." He muttered coldly in his sibling's ear.

Ravenhead nodded at the twins. "Thanks you, Tate." He said respectfully. "That was very insightful."

He coughed quietly and returned to discussing the subject of the lesson.

"Type Three Quirks can sometimes come in a personality form, like Mitchell, though more often they appear to be like any normal Type Two Quirk, only without the user's ability to control it. A good example would be my fellow teacher and hero, Dubstep. As he explained yesterday, he creates vibrations within the tips of his fingers whenever he talks, yet he cannot prevent this from happening. This small detail is what elevates his Quirk from a Type Two to a Type Three."

An inquisitive hand shot up. "Mr. Victorsson?" Asked a Scottish girl from the end of the third row. She was rather short compared to most of the other students.

"Yes, Melanie?" Ravenhead said.

"I was wondering if you could classify my Quirk." She asked.

Ravenhead furrowed his brow in thought. "Remind me, what was your Quirk again?" He asked.

" _Adaptability._ "

Ravenhead nodded. "Oh yes. The ability to alter your body to survive in any environment, I remember."

Melanie sat up in her seat and nodded affirmatively. "I'm a bit unsure which category it would fall into." She explained. "I can't really use my Quirk to hurt other people, but I also don't really have any control over it. I develop gills when swimming, fur when in cold weather and dark skin in harsh sunlight and heat, and this happens whether I want it to or not. I'm not sure if it would be a Type Two or a Type Three Quirk."

Ravenhead thought for a moment. He tapped a talon against his lower beak. "Do you know if your Quirk is capable of hurting people?" He asked eventually.

"I've never used it for that." She admitted. "But I did once accidentally bruise someone with a fin."

"Then it would actually be a Type One Quirk." Ravenhead deduced. "The deciding factor is the danger it poses to others. Being unable to control how or when your Quirk activates is a side effect when it comes to Type One and Zero Quirks. If your Quirk could directly hurt people it _would_ be a Type Three, without a doubt."

Melanie nodded in understanding, and sat back into her chair.

"I should probably clarify..." added Ravenhead. "If you are not already aware, you can visit any doctor or Quirk specialist in the country and have them diagnose your Quirk Danger Level for you. It's a free procedure and it saves time from having to figure it out for yourself."

Several of the students in the class took note of this. Maisie was one of them. She had never had an official diagnosis of her Quirk, though she doubted it would reach a higher category than Type Two. The thought was making her curious. She would visit the doctor that weekend to have it checked out.

"As I've already said, Quirks are registered by the level of danger they present to the user and to those around them." Ravenhead clarified further. "Though the registry method is a bit more detailed than just acknowledging whether a Quirk can cause harm to someone. It is impossible to completely remove the fatality risk from any situation. A Type One Quirk can still cause a fatal injury, and even individuals classified as Type Zero or Quirkless are capable of murder. Our government is very aware of this, and so when they were developing the Quirk Danger Level system they took this fact into consideration. If they had not, there would be only four danger levels."

He paused, and a solemn expression spread across his face. Maisie wondered what is was that he was about to say. Before he had seemed so jovial and light-hearted towards the subject, but now that had all gone.

Ravenhead lowered his head and continued. "The last two levels left to discuss vary from the two before in one massive way. Type Four and Type Five Quirks are capable of killing a person. Not only that, if a Quirk from either of these categories is used it is practically a guarantee that someone will die."

The class was silent with curiosity. Ravenhead took a moment to gather his thoughts and clear his throat. The subject he was about to discuss was evidently a heavy one, as he was treating it with such seriousness.

"The reason that these two additional categories exist is to help the government keep an eye on individuals that may pose a threat to the general public." He went on to explain. "Without them, there would people many more cases of manslaughter or murder across the country, and many more attempted crimes or successful crimes. By introducing these two categories, we have been successful in cutting crime by sixty-five percent."

He paused to make notes upon the whiteboard. Upon the final two bullet points he had written _'Type: 4'_ and _'Type: 5'_. Beside Type Four he had written the words _'Often Fatal, Dangerous, Controllable.'_

"Type Four Quirks are known as _Hazardous Quirks_ , and, while they are uncommon, they are a massive threat to the general public. For this reason any individual born with such a Quirk has to be constantly monitors, and if the police believe that the individual is planning to use their Quirk on another person, they are permitted to have them arrested. Type Four Quirks may appear to be Type Two Quirks upon first glance, yet it is the level of lethality which they possess which truly makes them dangerous. Many villains and mass murderers to rise within the last hundred years had a Type Four Quirk. Though there are those capable of hiding their Quirk, making it seem more benign than it actually is. Because of this, anybody learning the art of heroism has to remember one very important rule." He raised a finger "Never, under any circumstances, attack a villain before you know how their Quirk works. If you cannot trick them into using it, or figure out its effect through watching them, then it's possible they may be hiding its capabilities. If your target turns out to be hiding a Type Four Quirk up their sleeve, then it could very quickly become the end of your career. A dead hero is no good to anyone, and if you make that mistake you'll certainly become one."

The girl with the claw hand raised it. "Mr. Victorsson?" She asked.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever fought a criminal with a Type Four Quirk?"

Ravenhead nodded sadly. "Many."

"Have you even seen someone die while fighting a Type Four Quirk?"

There was a pause. Ravenhead looked at the floor, his dark eyes misting over very slightly. Maisie almost didn't notice it, yet it seemed that he was mourning something.

"Yes." He admitted. "Yes, I have."

The class was in silence over this subject. It seemed that Ravenhead was not especially happy about discussing such a macabre concept with them. He looked up, gave a small sniff, and continued on. From the look on his face, the lesson would not be getting any happier.

"There are some in our society who complain about the lack of privacy Type Four Quirk individuals get. It may seem inhumane, but keeping our eyes upon these individuals it what helps to keep us all safe at night. If we heroes were to ignore such dangerous individuals we would therefore be responsible for all the deaths they caused, purposefully or by accident. While individuals with Type Four Quirks may not have as much privacy as others, they are at least allowed to walk the streets freely, provided there is someone nearby to keep a watch them at all times. They are allowed to live a normal life, have a normal job and own a home, like any other person. Sadly this is not a privilege given to individuals with Type Five Quirks."

Not one student moved as Ravenhead paused to breath. The teacher didn't even turn to add words to the whiteboard. He had their complete and utter attention, and they had his.

"The difference between a Type Four and Type Five Quirks is the same as the difference between a Type Two and Type Three Quirk." Ravenhead told them with a foreboding glare. "Like with Type Three Quirks, the question is a matter of control. An individual with a Type Five Quirk will either have limited or no control over their power. The little control they do have may be able to effect when the Quirk activated or who it harms, but they can never completely control it. This lack of control is the main factor in why Type Five Quirks are considered the most dangerous kind of Quirk. Because of how dangerous these Quirks naturally are, most, if not all individuals with a Type Five Quirk are heavily observed by the police. Some are kept in solitary confinement for most of their lives, while others are allowed some small amount of freedom, though this comes with many restrictions. They cannot live in crowded areas, they cannot go to school, they cannot take jobs, they cannot start families, and some of them aren't even allowed to leave their own homes. The restrictions they may face depends upon the behaviour of their Quirk and the procedures needed to contain it. As unfortunate as this all may be, this is for the safety of others. Type Five Quirks are very rare, yet always lethal."

The class was silent. It seemed that nobody, not even Mitchell, had anything to say about this matter. Those who had not already known about it were reeling in shock, and the few who evidently did were still horrified by it. Maisie felt a shiver run down her spine. There were Quirks that were capable of killing people that easily? Not just that, there were Quirks that could kill people and could not be controlled? She suddenly felt a little uncomfortable with the idea of being around so many individuals with Quirks.

"It is important to remember that part of a hero's job is protection." Their teacher reminded the class. "While Type Four and Type Five Quirks are very dangerous, often the individuals with such Quirks want to avoid harming others as best they can. Please do not seek out these individuals to antagonise or harm them. Broadhurst Heroism Academy has the goal of offering anyone with the capacity of becoming a hero a chance to become one, even those with Type Five Quirks. For this reason, the school has taken on two of these individuals as students."

The entire classes gasped in shock. Maisie was no less surprised than any of them. It was strange that a teacher would talk about the most dangerous category of Quirk a person could have, only to then add that there were two of these individuals in the room with them. That paranoia which had begun to build in her mind sharply bloomed into a flower of mistrust.

"Are we safe with them around?" Asked the Asian boy with the glasses.

"Perfectly safe." Ravenhead explained. "Their Quirks have no area of effect, and these students know their restrictions. As long as they are careful and follow their safety procedures none of you should come to any harm because of them."

"Why would the academy allow this?" Jason demanded, looking stunned at what his teacher had said. "If their Quirks are uncontrollable and capable of killing people, then surely every one of us is in danger while they are here."

"Both of these students are aware of their Quirk and the effects and limits it has." Ravenhead reassured him. "Though both of them have asked me to not disclose their names with any of you. I am obligated by law to discuss the subject and point out that there are students at this academy with Type Four and Five Quirks, but we teachers already have a system set up to make sure that no one comes to harm while they study here."

"If we don't know their names, how are we supposed to avoid them?" Jason asks. "What if their Quirk goes off and kills one of us. How would we know who to avoid before it happened?"

"Jason, I understand your concern, but please calm down." Ravenhead said in as relaxed a voice as he could manage. The class was starting to panic, and he was unsure how to deal with it. "Madam Broadhurst, Mr. Morse, Mr. Mikhaelov and I have already discussed this matter in detail, and put into place several failsafe's should such an incident occur. If their Quirks should take effect, we teachers will be able to stop any harm befalling any students. Please do not panic, everything is under control."

The students look at one another, distrustful and frightened. Not just one, but two students among them were capable of killing with their Quirk. Maisie had to admit that she was unable to stay calm with this concept in her mind. She could feel the paranoid thoughts bubbling within her brain. But at the same time she also felt a small spark of observant curiosity. If a member of their class had a Type Five Quirk, then surely everyone would have already noticed. If such Quirks were uncontrollable, would they not have noticed one going off?

She glanced back towards the still angry and petrified Jason Jones, and noticed sat to his left was a boy in a black gothic dress. She had not paid him attention before, but now with the state of paranoia that the class was experiencing she found that her eyes were fixating upon every detail of every students. The boy had his head lowered, his fringe of black hair drooping over his eyebrows. Evidently he had noticed her looking at him, and he was trying not to meet her gaze. He covered his face with a pair of leather gloved hands and placed his head on the table.

Maisie was not usually the sort of person to be suspicious of other people, but something about the boy was off-putting. It was not his dress sense, nor his shyness, as she was not one to judge him for either. It was something about his eyes. For a mere moment she had seen them, shinning blue like a brilliant sapphire. They reflected so much pain, so much self-hatred, and so much grief. Maisie had wanted to stop looking the moment she had seen them, yet they were so terrifyingly captivating. She was unable to look away, not until his had covered his face and broken her gaze.

Maisie turned back around, as Ravenhead did what he could to regain control over the class and restore quiet and order. Jared tapped her on the shoulder, and gave her a nervous look.

"Notice anyone off?" He asked with curiosity, his voice having now returned. Whatever had been preventing him from talking was seemingly gone. It appeared that he too was unnerved by the suggestion of a dangerous student within their class.

For a moment Maisie thought about suggesting the gothic boy, but she didn't think that would be right. As Ravenhead had told them, these students didn't want their names to be known, most likely because they knew that the class would avoid them if they did. Even if that boy wasn't one of those students, if the class came to believe that he was they would ostracize him in fear. She didn't want to be the person to suggest it, and possibly lead to that student being avoided and antagonized.

"No." She lied, giving him a nervous shrug.

Jared shrugged back. "Me neither." He admitted. "Most people here seem pretty harmless… except maybe Tate and Mitchell." He added in a whisper.

Thankfully the twins did not hear him, and a few moments later Ravenhead was speaking up once more.

"Well, I believe we are out of time for today." He announced, as the class returned to a more quiet state. "For next week's lesson I would like you all to do some further research upon the subjects of Original Heroes and Quirk Danger Levels. I will be asking you all to give me an example of one of these heroes and which category their Quirk fell into. We will continue to look further into the History of Quirks and Heroes after that." He paused, and then clicked his finger. "And also remember that, after lunch, we will be having our first official PE lesson. Aries wanted to start testing your physical endurance, so I would suggest not stuffing yourselves with food in the cafeteria."

The class began to rise from their seats, packing their bags in a hurry to leave through the door. Maisie had not written much within her notebook. She had spent most of the lesson listening to Ravenhead's words with fascination, and had forgotten to write any of it down. Jared had written a tone of notes into his book already, though he had also scribbled a few small doodles upon the edge of the page.

"Our first Academy meal." Jared said to her as they walked to the door. "The most exciting part of the day."

She laughed quietly at him, though her laughter was more nervous than usual. Maisie found herself wondering about the gothic boy once more. She didn't know why, but something about him seemed wrong.


	14. Chapter 12 - Self-Defense Class

**Jared Wreath**

* * *

Starting a new year at a new school was never easy for anyone. Getting used to the new location, finding your way around the grounds, finding the classrooms and lecture halls, not making a fuss for the teachers, getting to know the other students, making friends. For some these issues are easy enough to deal with, though almost everyone screws up with one of them. For a sixteen year old, having just left the relatively safe and protected world of Secondary School, facing the struggle of further education and the expectations of the real world could be terrifying, problematic, arduous, even depressing. Jared was not free from any of these feelings. He had been shaking up a cocktail of emotions within his brain as he arrived at the academy on that first day. Anxiety had been the main ingredient at that time. Anxiety brought on by his previous experiences with schools, students and social expectations. Broadhurst Heroism Academy had not surprised him in that respect. A couple of the other students didn't seem to like him very much, managing to get through the Physical lessons was tricky and already he'd said and done one or two things to upset others in his presence. Being told to shut up by another student during a lesson had been quite awkward.

Yet Jared didn't feel especially unhappy with how his first day at the academy had turned out. Sure, there had been those moments of embarrassment; being outed as the Progenitor's son, admitting your lack of a Quirk in front of the class, coming last in a race – though technically it was not an actual race, as there was no competition or reward for the first place. But between those obvious blisters of humiliation there were a few sweeter moments. In making it to the Academy he had proved he was capable of becoming a hero, something which many others had doubted. In walking there by himself every morning he had proved he could be independent, and keep a track of time. He was only late the once, and after that he began to leave home earlier to avoid such awkward arrivals. In coming last in the race he had made friends with another student, and had continued to talk to him for the rest of the week. These were all small things, certainly, but they were the rocks that would form the base of his mountain, which he would have to continue building till it passed the clouds.

The week had passed by in seconds. In that time Jared had been successful in turning up to the academy every day, paying attention to every lecture, making notes on each subject, pushing himself further with physical training, and keeping up with the friendships he had made. Maisie seemed to be in a similar state as him. She had been more anxious than he to start their first week at the academy, yet she had already acclimatized to the unusual environments and unique lesson subjects. She had not made a complete change to her personality – she was still the shy, socially awkward, eager and excitable young woman he had met within the tall grass – yet it seemed she was being more open and friendly with those around her. While she had not made any new friends, she had started talking to Jon after Jared introduced them, and while she did not seem to like Tate or Mitchell very much she would at least say hello to them. Jared had never completely been sure why she had wanted to study at the academy, though he was happy she was there, and by the look of it she was happy to be there too.

During their PE lessons, Jared and Jon continued to work together, encouraging each other to keep pushing on and do that bit extra to pass their limits. It should have been strange for the teenage relatives of the countries two strongest heroes to have developed a friendship and not a rivalry, yet to Jared it felt perfectly normal. Jon was not like his father, nor many of the other students studying with them. He seemed to care more about helping those around him, and less about his image, fame or rank. Jared had never met the Number Two Hero Supermassive, nor did he know much about him other than what was shown in the comic books and news. Considering that he was Jon's Uncle, and that Jon aspired to be like him, Jared couldn't imagine him being an unkind person at all.

The other lectures had been fairly interesting, which Jared was a little surprised by. He had always been so bored during lessons at secondary school, not because he was too smart or too stupid for them but more because he just had no interest in any of it. He could not say the same thing about the lessons at Broadhurst Heroism Academy. Ravenhead's lessons about Quirks History and Law were intriguing. The aspects that Jared had not known about before, such as Quirk Danger Levels, had been fascinating to learn about, and the stuff he had known about, such as the First Hero; Heracles, had still taught him some new information which he had not been aware of before. Ravenhead had further described the many laws which Heracles put in place during their Quirk Law lesson with him on that Friday evening.

As well as the lectures with the avian number ten hero, the Junior Class had also had lessons with Aries on British Law and Criminal Psychology that Wednesday and Thursday. British Law was less about the specific laws surrounding Quirks and the general laws of the country, including the history of that law and why it is in place. Jared found that Criminal Psychology was especially interesting, as Aries went through all of the various motives a person could have for performing a criminal act. Their first lesson had been about looking at these reasons in depth, and understanding how easily a person could be convinced to use them.

The next Monday the class had Geography with Mr. Mikhaelov. This was the only lesson they had with the profound Russian Hero; Dubstep, other than Physical Education which they had with all three of their teachers. Jared had found it strange that someone who was neither born nor living in Britain would be teaching them about the geography of the country, though Dubstep had explained that he worked across the whole of Europe, and that part of his job as a Rescue Hero involved knowing the quickest and safest routes through hazardous or clustered environments. Knowing the layout of a city also fell into this requirement, and it was this bit of information he was choosing to focus upon during the lesson.

Jared had spent most of their lesson studying the map of Galafrei City and the region it sat within. As Jared already knew, Galafrei City was built upon the southern half of London, while Scarow City was built upon the North. What he had not known were the names of the districts that had once made up the county, nor which districts were on which side of the wall. By comparing the original map of Greater London and the current map of Galafrei and Scarow, Jared could see a very clear through line. Scarow was much larger than Galafrei, almost twice the size. Though there were a greater number of districts located on the south side of the wall, the ones mentioned on the north side were bigger in size. The massive metal structure had been built to the north of the River Thames, with the City of London at the very edge of the wall. That district was now known as Central Galafrei, or the Heart of Galafrei. The wall then spread out from there, following the river. The district of Westminster was sliced in half as the wall passed through it, along with the north sides of Kensington and Chelsea, and Hammersmith and Fulham. The southern remnants of these three districts became the single district of Sontarr. The wall then continued to follow the river west, cutting Hounslow off the map and finishing at Richmond upon Thames. The wall spreading east took a northern angle around the edge of Tower Hamlets, skimming the border between Newham and Waltham Forest and then cutting straight through Barking and Dagenham to return to the river and completely ignore Havering. The remaining northern district were surrounded by the wall as it spread and imprisoned them inside like criminals in a cell.

Dubstep recounted further information about the city, including the number of men needed to construct the London Wall, the square mile length of both Galafrei and Scarow, and the tallest building within each. He then proceeded on a tangent about the wall, and mentioned how the only way to get through was at one of the checkpoints in each region of the city. He then corrected himself, and stated that at one point criminals and villains had attempted to use the sewers that linked underneath both cities as a way of traveling between the two undetected. That method had since been dealt with, as outposts were placed within the connecting pipes under the wall to stop and arrest anyone caught walking around down there.

By the time the lecture ended, it was five o'clock in the evening. Jared was already feeling tired, having pushed himself extra hard during the PE lesson that morning, and was not looking forward to the walk home. The weather had been getting rougher as they entered the early days of September, and rainclouds had been forming as they left the field. As the class was ending, Dubstep stopped before letting anyone leave.

"Oh, I just remembered. Before I let you go for the day, I have an announcement."

Jared sat back down with a groan. He had just gotten his legs to support his weight, and now he had to wait for the teacher to finish speaking again. Dubstep clapped his hands together, which created a small reverberating echo similar to the sound of feedback from a microphone. A few members of the class flinched.

"Since ve've now officially gotten through the first veek of the course, I've been given permission to discuss the upcoming exams vith you all."

There was silence from the class, as everyone listened to him with curious and eager ears.

"In addition to the written exams upon the subjects ve study in class, there vill also be two physical exams this term. The first vill be a combat exam, vhich vill take place on the tventy-ninth of September, three veeks from now. In this exam you vill be picked at random to fight each other, and you are permitted to use your Quirks vhen doing so. The second is a Criminal Apprehension Exam, vhich vill be focusing upon your abilities to vork as a team and hunt down a target. This exam vill take place on October Tventy-Eighth. Ve vill be able to give you more information towards the date, so for now ve recommend you spend as much time as you can training. Failure of either exam vill not result in expulsion, so don't panic about that, but it may vell result in having to take further classes outside of academy time."

The moment he stopped talking the class began chatting with each other. It seemed to Jared that everyone was excited at the prospects of being able to fight each other. Combat was something most heroes got to partake in, so naturally everyone had been expecting the chance to beat each other up. Jared was also rather excited at the prospect, though unlike most of the other students he was also very nervous. He was, after all, Quirkless. Would the teachers be taking that into account? If not, would he be able to manage a fight with any of the other students. The only person he truly believed he could beat in a fight was Maisie, yet he didn't want to hurt her, even if it was part of an exam.

"Also, before you go, I should add that, as of this Friday, Mr. Morse vill be running a Self-Defence Class every Vednesday evening, from six to seven PM. It's open to anyone who vishes to join, though ve recommend that those with veak or non-combat Quirks take the class in order to prepare for the upcoming combat exam. All you need to do is show up on the day and our beloved goat man vill assist you in vays of fighting each other." He gave them a cheeky grin. "Now, since I can see you're all ready to head off, I'll let you leave. _Do svidan'ya! Dobroy nochi!_ Good Night!"

* * *

"What do you think of this self-defence class?" Maisie asked him the next day, as they both sat down at one of the refectory's tables.

They had just finished their second History of Quirks and Heroes lecture with Ravenhead. Neither of them had been able to discuss the subject of the new class until now, as they had both been focused upon completing Ravenhead's homework. Jared had chosen to look up a hero named Hades, whose Quirk was called Hellfire, and it allowed him to summon black fireballs from his hands. It turned out that many of the first heroes took their names from Greek Mythology, and Hades was one of the more interesting figures in that number. In Jared's research he had discovered that Hades was the first known hero to abandon the Hero Movement and become a Villain. This did happen every now and then, but in this case he had been one of the most famous heroes in the country. There was no record upon why he had left the movement, but it was recorded that he was eventually killed by Heracles. Jared had been forced to stand up in front of the class and recite this information to them. That had not been as fun.

"It sounds like a fantastic idea." Jared said in response to Maisie's question. "Though I'm not quite sure what we'd be learning."

"Since it's about self-defence, I imagine they will be teaching us how to protect ourselves from attacks, rather than focus upon delivering those attacks back." Said Jon.

As well as Jared and Maisie, there were a couple of other students with them at the table. Jon Laverick sat opposite Jared, while Payton Moon, the boy with the moth wings, was seated beside him with his wings drooped across the back of his chair. He and Jon sat together on the front row of the class during lessons, and as such they had become friends over the first week at the academy. Jared had not yet spoken to Payton, though he seemed like a nice person. At the very end of the table sat Tate. None of them were quite sure why he was there, though he most certainly was making himself known by butting into their conversation every chance he got.

"Sounds like a load of boring bullshit." Tate stated with a knowledgeable smirk. "I mean, why would any off us need to be taught how to fight? We all have Quirks, we can just use them."

"I don't" Jared reminded him.

"Even with our Quirks, who's to say they will be useful in every fight." Payton joined in, folding his arms around his waist in an unconsciously posh manner. "Not all of us have super powerful Quirks, and even if we did there will be scenarios where they're made useless. Having that additional training would be very useful to us."

"Are you going, Jared." Maisie asked him.

Jared smiled eagerly back at her. "Yeah." He said with excitement. "Why wouldn't I? It's there for us to practice before the Combat Exam, so we should go get some experience."

Maisie nodded back at him, sharing his eager expression. "I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to go. Honestly, the concept of the combat exam scares me a little. I don't really want to hurt anyone."

"What are you doing here, then?" came the interrupting voice of Jason Jones from the table behind them. They all turned to look at him. He was leaning back on his chair, looking at Maisie with a disappointed and yet somehow angry expression. "Heroes _have_ to fight villains. If you don't want to fight then why are you training to be a hero?"

"Not all heroes deal with criminals." Jon reminded him. "Some purely focus upon rescue efforts. If Maisie does not want to focus upon fighting criminals then that is her choice."

"Will you be going to these self-defence lessons, Jon?" Jared asked.

Jon smiled back at him. "Of course. I imagine a hero like Aries could teach us a lot about combat and fighting hand-to-hand."

"I don't see the point in it." George joined in, calling across his table from the seat opposite Jason. "We could just use our Quirks to get through it."

"Maybe you and Jason could." Payton argued. "Jon probably wouldn't struggle much either. I imagine he can kick like a horse if he can raise his legs."

"Rather flattering of you to assume that." Jon muttered awkwardly to himself.

"But I don't have a Quirk like yours, neither does Maisie, and Jared doesn't even have a Quirk. For us, a lecture like this would be vital. It wouldn't be fair for us to go up against you without it."

Jared was rather grateful to have his weakness acknowledged. Not everyone would take that into account. He had been in a couple of fights before, not the sort that Heroes experience, more playground scuffles. When those happened the person he was fighting with would usually forget that he was at a disadvantage, and they would use their Quirk upon him straight away, no matter what it was. In never felt fair when that happened. He at least wanted a chance to hit them back.

It was unfortunate that Mitchell decided this was the perfect time to insult them all as best he could, because otherwise it would have been a nice moment.

"Then why don't you all just fail and go home if you're not good enough to win?" He snapped at them in a mocking voice. Even Tate had not been especially impressed with that comment, though he was not as annoyed as the rest of the table.

"Who's to say you would win your fight?" Jon snapped at him. "If you went up against Jason or George, how would you win? What could your Quirk do to beat them in a fight?"

Tate quickly tugged at Mitchell's cord to shut him up, and the ghostly brother did not look at all happy about this.

"I don't think we'll be going." Tate told them quietly. "I don't think we'll be needing it. Mitchell and I can deal with anything we're facing."

"I think I might go, actually." Maisie told them, after taking a moment to think about it. "Even though I don't really want to fight anyone, it might be worthwhile just to learn how to defend myself."

"Actually I think we'll go too." Tate said, suddenly changing his mind.

"I thought you said it would be a load of boring bullshit?" Jon reminded him.

Tate shrugged awkwardly, caught in his contradiction. "I changed my mind. It sounds like a great idea." He said quickly.

It seemed that each of them had made up their minds as to whether they would be going to this class or not. Jared wondered who else would show up. He hadn't had much of a chance to get to know the whole class yet, and maybe now he would get that chance. If nothing else, he was hoping to see what he would be up against in the Combat Exam.

* * *

The next day Jared stayed behind after school. As Aries ended their lesson on British Law he hurried to the changing room out on the field and got into his sports clothing: a pair of knee-length grey shorts and a black vest, as well as his iconic blue hoodie, white trainers and sports socks. It seemed that he was the only person with this plan. Everyone else had left, even Jon and Payton, who he knew were going to the class. The changing room was eerily quiet, which Jared found to be unnaturally chilling. He quickly left, and headed for the room where Aries had told them the class would be taken.

Jared took the stairs of the main building up to the first floor, and followed the short corridor to a single room at the end. He pushed the door open and entered. Inside the room was brightly lit, with white walls and soft blue padding on the floor. Aries was already inside, sat waiting against the wall, wearing his grey hoodie with the hood over his head. He looked up as Jared entered, surprised to see a student arriving so early.

"We won't be starting till six." Aries told him as he entered. "You're welcome to wait here till then."

Jared sat against the far wall, away from his teacher. It felt rather embarrassing to be sat alone with one of his lecturers, even if the man was a renowned hero. He experienced that common anxiety that the teacher may try to talk to him, maybe even be personal with him. That possibility was terrifying to any student. It seemed that Aries was not interested in talking to him, however. He did not seem like an especially talkative person, and he certainly did not ramble on during classes like Ravenhead and Dubstep tended to do. He always said what he was supposed to say, and nothing more. Though other than his initial greeting, he said absolutely nothing else. He just sat there with crossed legs, head held low in some form of meditation.

It took half an hour for the next student to show up. One of the girls, who Jared had not yet spoken too, walked in, wearing a large winter coat. She looked uncomfortably hot with the article of clothing upon her, yet she was adamant to remove it. Aries nodded his welcoming to her, and told her the same thing he had told Jared. She also took a seat next to the wall, though it was many feet away from Jared. Jared couldn't help but find that a little insulting.

A few minutes after her the other students began to arrive. First came the boy who sat beside Maisie, the one who had told Jared to shut up. He came dressed in a dark purple shirt, which paralleled his spiky purple hair. He gave Jared a look, before standing against the far wall with his hands in his pocket. After him arrived Jon, who joined Jared beside the wall. His feet left dents in the padded floor. Then Payton arrived, followed by a short redheaded girl, then Tate and Mitchell, then a girl with long blonde hair, and then finally Maisie. It seemed that this would be the only members of their class who would be showing up. They were not the only students at the academy who came along to the lesson, however. There were also a couple of the students from Class Senior there as well. Before Maisie had arrived, four adult figures had entered. One of them had been a young man, not much older than twenty. Another had been a middle aged man reaching somewhere in his mid-thirties. The other two were elder, one man and one woman, with greying hair and many wrinkles. Those last two had especially surprised Jared. He had not expected two elderly people to be studying at the academy. Sure, it was open to anyone young or old, yet it still surprised him to learn that two older people would be interested in becoming heroes. He didn't want to doubt their capability, but he wondered if they could actually manage it.

When everyone had finally arrived, Aries stood up and started the class. He had them line up against the far wall, as he stood before them with his hands behind his back.

"Thank you for coming along to this additional class, all of you." He said with a humble bow. "As you will have already been told, there are two upcoming physically exams this term, one at the end of the month and the other in October. These lessons will be taking place every Wednesday from now to November. I will do what I can to teach you all how to defend yourselves in close quarters combat." He ran a finger through the air, following the line of students. "But first, a head count. Who is here today?" He pointed his finger to the girl on the left end of the row. "Name?" He asked casually.

"Barbara." The blonde girl said, a little nervous to have her teacher's attention.

Aries moved his finger across to the next student. "Next?" He asked.

"Aaren." The redheaded girl stood next to Barbara said, bowing back to her teacher. She was wearing a sleeveless white martial arts gi and shorts with a black belt tied around the waist. Underneath she appeared to be wearing a black tank top. She looked like she had gone all out to look the part. The rest of the class were either wearing sports clothing or light casual wear, other than the girl dressed in the thick winter coat.

It was her who was next in line. "Catherine." She told him with a quiet voice, hiding her mouth underneath the raised collar of her coat.

Next up were the two younger members of Class Senior.

"Nicholas." Said the middle aged man, as the hairy finger pointed towards him.

"Felix." Said the twenty year old man next to him.

Aries continued along the line, having each student state their name.

"Niall." Said the purple haired boy.

"Tate." Said Tate

"And Mitchell." Added Mitchell.

Unimpressed, Aries moved his finger across to the nervous girl in the summer dress.

"Maisie." Said Maisie.

"Jared." Said Jared, feeling rather uncomfortable with the idea of stating his name like this. Surely the teacher already knew their names.

"Jon." Said Jon to his right.

"Payton" Said Payton.

And finally, at the end of the row, were the two elderly members of the class.

"Elijah." Said the man; a tall, slim, pale figure, with lanky, frail looking arms and long legs. His grey hair was combed back, leaving his large forehead without a fringe.

"Madge." Said the woman; a short, plump, tanned individual with flowing white hair. She had her hands clenched together in front of her, and they were surprisingly bony looking.

With the greetings over, Aries bowed to them and took a step back. "Let us begin. Have any of you had previous martial arts training?" He asked.

Two hands shot up. One belonged to the old man and the other to the redheaded girl.

"Then, for you, I expect this first lesson may be rather boring, as you'll probably have been through this before." Aries told them. "The purpose of these classes will be to teach each of you how to defend yourselves from all manner of attacks, from simple punches and kicks, to armed assault, to weak, strong and even lethal Quirks. Today we will begin with the basics. We'll start off with a very simple forearm block. This move is used to stop attacks directed at your upper body."

The teacher took a step backwards across the mat, and spread his legs wide, arms to his side. He let his hood fall down, revealing his thick eyebrows, receding hairline and curving brown horns. He held his arms up in front of him, and with a grunt he extended the right arm sideways, still bent upward. His other arm was pulled back, his balled fist tense beside his hip.

"In order to perform this technique, you need to extend your arm out, like this." He explained. "Then, when your opponent makes an attack, you react thusly." Aries swung his extended arm across sharply, placing it before his chest. "This is an inside block. If my attacker were to aim for my face with a punch, this would block them." He said with a grunt. "Now, if your attacker were to strike from the side instead, you should react this way." He swung his arm back out to its original position, still tense and bent up. "This is an outside block. Both can be used in succession when timed right, so you won't be left open to attacks. All it requires is fast reflexes and timing." He relaxed himself, standing with both legs together once more. "Now, if you all find a space on the mat an arm's length from anyone else, give this a try for yourself."

Jared took a spot near the back of the room, not far from Maisie, Tate and Jon. He made sure none of them were too close to him, and took up what he presumed to be an adequate fighting stance, legs wide and arms up. The rest of the class had done the same, though some more impressively than others. The senior class members didn't seem to have much of a struggle with this, though to his left Maisie was finding it difficult to get comfortable with her stance. She was both trying to stand ready and not lift her skirt up too high. Jared wasn't sure why she had thought it would be a good idea to turn up wearing her usual dress.

The class attempted to copy the display their teacher had given, each throwing their own spin upon the technique. Aries stood by and watch, throwing his feedback in when he felt necessary. "You're bending your arm too far across, Felix. You'll end up spraining yourself. Too much force behind that movement, Payton. You're trying to block your opponent, not punch him. Catherine, take your coat off. You're sweating too much. You won't be able to move freely with it on." Even though the teacher had made a very good point, the girl refused to remove her coat. She looked ready to collapse, and they had barely even started.

After a minute or so of this, Aries finally let them stop. He folded his arms across his chest and under his armpits, lowering his head.

"Not awful." He said with a hint of doubt. "But not great either. Though you are here to learn, so improvements were always going to be necessary."

He scratched at his beard, then took up his fighting stance once more, placing his left hoof in front of his right and standing sideways on to the class.

"Next I will show you a technique for blocking kicks to the lower region." He held up both arms in front of his face. "This move is called a low block. It requires the extension of one's arm towards their thigh, as such…" He sharply swung his left arm down, swiping it across his upper left leg and leaving it extended there for them to see. "The legs are a vital week point of any fighter, and your opponent will most likely know this. To quickly take out a target, you aim for his knees. If he can't stand, he can't fight. You don't want to make that mistake. Don't forget to protect your legs." He relaxed again and took a step back. "Now, you. Please be careful not to hit the person beside you."

Once again, the class were left to re-enact the actions Aries had performed.

"Now, we're going to look at some countering techniques." Aries said after a minute of this. "I need a volunteer."

Several hands shot up, but Aries picked the one belonging to one of the senior students. Felix stepped forwards and approached the teacher.

"Just stand there." Aries instructed him. "Now, I'm going to show you all how to perform a shoulder throw." He raised his hands up. "Mr. Hunter, would you mind holding your hand out?" Felix did as he was instructed, looking rather unsure as to what the teacher would do next. "This technique is used to bring your opponent to the ground and stun them. When your opponent swings in with a punch, simply strike them under the arm like this."

Aries raised his right arm to block Felix's outstretched fist, and with his other hand he pushed into his chest, just below raised shoulder. Felix winced very slightly.

"Bend your knees, lean forward, turn slight away and strike out their foot with your heel, while pulling their arm over your shoulder." Aries did this, and with a painful gasp Felix lost his balance and was pulled against the hero's back. "Then, when you have them over your back, stand up straight, lean forwards and pull their arm over your shoulder. Their body will follow it." Aries tugged his student's arm downwards, and with a shocked cry, Felix Hunter flew limply over his shoulder and landed hard upon the soft mat flooring. He lay there wincing and stunned.

"Bloody hell!" Tate muttered.

Aries offered his student a hand, and Felix took it gratefully, rubbing his back in pain.

"Now, I would like you all to partner up and try this for yourselves. Take it in turned to be the attacker and the thrower, and please do be careful not to hurt each other."

Jared turned to his left, hoping to ask Maisie to be his partner, only to notice that Tate was already talking to her. The cocky young man was grinning at her, rubbing his cheek with anxiety.

"Wanna team up with me?" He asked her eagerly.

Maisie gave him a rather uncertain look, and blinked at him a couple of times. "Not really." She admitted. "I was actually hoping to team up with Jared."

Jared smiled. It was nice to hear that his friend wanted to work with him. While Jon may have been more capable of helping him, he didn't exactly want to be kicked by him. Those large metal feet were very heavy, and he would rather not have his foot crushed by one. Maisie may not be as sporty or as physical as he was, but he had more trust in her.

He was about to speak up, when he felt the sharp grip of a hand upon his left shoulder. He turned. The redheaded girl in the martial arts gi was standing to his left, looking at him with an unreadable, emotionless expression. In her eyes was an oddly determined look.

"Train with me." She stated.

Jared looked at her, flustered and flabbergasted. "O-okay?" He managed to blurt out, before the girl tugged at his arm and pulled him to the side. She led him like a dog on a leash to a space near the edge of the room, away from Jared's friends, as the rest of the class began to form groups. He could see Maisie watching him from the other end of the room, confused and slightly upset. The person she had wanted to partner up with was being dragged away by another girl. She was eventually forced to work with the blonde girl, as the both of them had not managed to find anyone else. There thirteen members of the class, and she did not want to work with Tate. Fortunately he had resorted to using Mitchell as his sparring partner.

"Why are you…?" Jared tried to say as he was shoved onto a square of mat near the wall. The girl shushed him, giving him a stern look.

"You're the Progenitor's son, yes?" She clarified.

Jared blinked. "Yes. What does that have…?"

"I want to help train you." She told him.

Jared's mouth opened, but only a confused groan came out.

"Sorry?" He managed to splutter out.

"You're too weak as you are." She continued. "You're scrawny, slow, you don't stand up for yourself. You won't survive the combat exam like this. You need to toughen up. I want to help you."

Jared continued to stare at her. Right now he could not think of her as anything other than crazy. "Why?" He eventual asked, after his throat found his voice once more.

The girl looked away, chewing her lips. "Because you remind me of someone I admire." She admitted. "I'm not interested in explaining any more than that. Now, let's get started."

"Okay." Jared said, still confused but at least willing to go through with the excursive. It did not seem that he had much of a choice. "Are you going to tell me your name at least?" He asked.

"Aaren." The girl said, bowing stiffly. "Aaren Whitley."

Jared gave her an awkward smile, and extended his hand. "Jared Wreath."

Aaren took it, and gripped it firmly within her small fingers. Jared winced a little. Her fingers were like boa constrictors, wrapping tightly around his arm and cutting off the circulation. She shook his hand, with motions like a saw slicing through wood.

"So, who's going first?" Jared asked "You or I…"

He could not finish his question, as by the time the words had left his mouth, Aaren's free hand had struck him in the chest. Jared gasped, and lurched forwards, spluttering. With him winded, Aaren then turned around and struck out his foot. She pulled his hand over her shoulder, and leaning forwards she slipped him over and threw him to the ground. Jared landed loudly and painfully upon his back. He gasped in shock, and lay looking up at the ceiling. Aaren's face came into view, upside down. She smiled at him… or maybe it was a frown.

"Excellent, Aaren!" Aries praised from the other side of the classroom. "Fantastic performance. Perfectly placed."

Jared slowly rolled over, gasping for air. He weakly pushed himself up onto his knees and looked up at her. Even though he was down on all fours he was not much shorter than her.

"Next time, warn me before you do that!" He snapped quietly, gripping his chest in pain.

Aaren just raised a single mocking eyebrow at him. "Your opponent won't warn you. A hero cannot expect a villain to tell them what their next move will be." She raised a finger. "First rule of a fight: remain aware and focused."

"I didn't think that we'd started yet." Jared complained. "Now what, exactly?"

"Now, you do the same back to me." She explained with a shrug.

Jared blushed very slightly. "I'm not sure about that. I mean, I might hurt you."

Aaren gave him a cold look. "Are you really afraid of hurting a girl?" She asked mockingly.

"No!" Jared said, maybe a little too quickly. "Not that. It's just… you're rather..." He stopped talking after seeing her unimpressed glare.

"I've been doing this sort of thing since I was six." She told him sternly. "I can topple a fully grown man with little difficulty."

"Christ, I'm sorry." Jared said, made uncomfortable by the anger in her eyes. "I was just making sure it was okay."

Aaren hummed at him, not quite forgiving his poor judgement. She stepped back, and took up a professional fighting stance. "Just do as I did. Go slow for now, so you get the motion correct."

Jared also took up a stance; left leg forward, both arms up. He tried to remember the method which Aries had shown them, and tried to recall the exact motions and movements. Aaren slowly thrusted her right arm forward, so that Jared would be able to react to the action. He, also moving slowly, blocked it with his right arm, and followed up by pressing his left hand into her armpit, pushing her arm up over his shoulder. He then turned around and bent his knees, lifted her over his shoulder, stood straight, leaned forwards, and let her fall. Aaren hit the ground in front of him with the weightlessness of a feather. She did not stay down for long, as she quickly rolled over and jumped to her feet, barely so much as stunned by the impact.

"Good." She said. "Not great, but better than I thought you would do."

"Gee, thanks." Jared muttered.

"Now, try again. This time at proper speed." Aaren quickly entered her fighting stance, and it took Jared a moment to snap into awareness. Fortunately she waited for him to be ready.

She lunged with a punch again, this time not slowing down so that he could react. Jared caught her arm an inch before it struck his face. He very nearly panicked and forgot the next step. He repeated the actions, raising her arm over his shoulder, turning, pulling her over his shoulder while kneeling, leaning forwards while standing up, continuing to pull her. He was half way through the motion of pulling Aaren over his head He could feel her weight upon his back, moving upward. Jared only needed to keep up the motion and she would be down upon the ground once more.

Then something strange happened. As he yanked his arm downward, he suddenly felt the weight and pressure of the young girl's body fade away. As his hand came into view he saw that nothing was gripped in between his clenching fingers. To his shock, Aaren's hand had vanished. The weight of her body upon his back had not faded, however, and it was growing steadily more acute. Unable to take the pressure applied to his spine, he collapsed onto all fours. Aaren rolled off of him and landed upon her knees in front of his face, her hand phasing through the soft floor.

Jared looked up at her, saw her arm being pulled from the floor, regaining colour from its once grey shade. He glared at her, angry. "That's hardly fair." Jared groaned, coughing in pain. "Aries said nothing about using your Quirk."

"I thought it would be useful for you to experience a situation like that." She told him emotionless. "I wanted to see you react to an unusual situation. Incidentally, you failed dramatically. You barely did anything to regain control. You just let me crush you."

"I was still in shock." Jared argued back, his spine aching from the force which had been placed upon it. For such a short and skinny young woman, Aaren was shockingly heavy.

The girl sighed with disappointment, and offered him a hand. "Get up. Let's try again."

He stared at her hand. "How do I know you won't use your Quirk again?" He asked suspiciously.

Aaren sighed. "Fine. Stand up by yourself, then."

Grudgingly, Jared took her hand, and was grateful that she did not make it disappear as she had done before. He supposed that he could at least give her a little trust in training him, though he would have to keep his eyes open in case she tried something like that again.

The both of them continued to practice this form of grapping for several minutes, switching round positions every so often so that Jared could experience both the grappling and being grappled aspect of the act. Aaren argued that being able to practice as the target would help him prepare for the impact if he were to be grappled during a fight. There would be no soft flooring in an actual fight, after all. Jared found the experience to be strange. From the outside the repetitive action must have looked like a disturbing game of leapfrog. But there was something other than that, something more personal. He barely knew this girl, and she barely knew him, yet she was genuinely trying to help him. Though her aggressive and stubborn attitude didn't make it obvious, she was actually interested in training him. The more times he did the shoulder throw, the better at it he got. By the time Aries called for the class to stop, he had succeeded in toppling Aaren while she was using her Quirk. It hadn't been easy, as he'd had to find a different area to grab other than her limbs, which had given her a bit of a surprise. He'd had to awkwardly apologise afterwards. He never would have placed his hand _there_ if he'd had a choice.

"Excellent work, everyone." Aries told them. Jared was surprised to see him smile. This was the first time he had seen such a grin on the teacher's face. Though admittedly they had not known him for very long, Mr Morse came across as the sort of man who rarely smiled at anyone. "You're all making some impressive progress." He folded his arms across his chest. "Now, we're going to move away from the defence and countering aspect, and focus a bit more upon safe and efficient fighting." He turned around. "First I'll need to get out some equipment. Just stay here, I'll be back in a moment."

The door slid closed behind him, leaving the class by themselves. At any normal school, this would be a recipe for disaster. Leaving any group of students – child, teenager, adult or OAP – alone in a room with no lecturer was a guaranteed method of creating chaos. There would be arguments, fights, theft of school property, vandalism of the whiteboard. But today, at Broadhurst Heroism Academy – or at least with this class – that did not happen. They all stood there, behaving, as if the teacher was still in the room… well, most of them were behaving. Tate and Mitchell were the only two not at all interested in allowing their lecturers to trust them.

"Quickly, someone look through his desk!" Mitchell suggested with the eager and mischievous voice of a teenager.

"I doubt you'll find anything of interest." Payton told him.

"Maybe he's hiding some dirty magazines in the draws." Tate suggested.

They looked at him.

"Do you really think a teacher would bring that sort of thing with them to the school?" Asked Jon, who was genuinely shocked at the suggestion?

Tate shrugged humorously. "Hey, you never know." He said with a smile. There was a disgusted groan from most of the members of the class.

Jared had to admit, it was rather funny seeing Tate get judged for his depraved ideas. He certainly deserved it. Since they'd known him, Tate had been harassing him and Maisie non-stop. With Jared it seemed to be that he just liked annoying him, but with Maisie it seemed much more perverse. He had a strange fixation with her. He would constantly ask her personal questions, to a point where she was clearly uncomfortable. He would stare at her, kick the bottom of her seat in class, pull at her hair to get her attention. Every once in a while he would attempt to obtain a glance of her more private regions. Jared found it disgusting. Maisie was his friend. He couldn't stand the idea that someone would do that too her. The worst thing about it was that she never reacted. If it had been his sister Alexis that was the target of Tate's foolery, she would have slapped him hard across the cheek. Yet Maisie never reacted, at least not in a way that directly showed she disliked it. She usually just looked at him in shock, then went back to whatever she was doing. Jared couldn't understand why. Surely she didn't enjoy it.

A conversation had started at the other end of the room.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jon said with a very monotone voice. "I don't read that sort of stuff."

"Oh come on!" Exclaimed Payton. "The man's a relative of yours. Don't tell me you don't know about the fight between Supermassive and the Nidhogg of Norway! That was one of his first big battles. Are you saying he never told you about it?"

"Never." Said Jon. "I don't read comic books."

Jared's eyes lit up like those of a terminator. With the quick movements of a cheetah, his sprinted across the room to the intriguing conversation, and attached himself to it like a limpet upon a rock.

"Did someone mention the Supermassive Comic Books?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah. Apparently Jon is his nephew, yet he doesn't know anything about his uncle's history." Payton explained.

Jon looked at them and shook his head with annoyance. "I've told you already, I don't read comic books and I don't see my uncle very often. He's also not technically my uncle. I'm barely related to him."

"Did you ever read the Nidhogg comic?" Payton asked Jared, turning to him with a similar glint in his eye.

"Hell yeah!" Jared exclaimed. "The one where Supermassive went to deal with a small band of Scandinavian villains. Ah, that story was amazing! Who could believe a Quirk so simple could bring down so many bad guys!"

"My favourite part was when he ripped off one of the Nidhogg's horns and pinned his tail to the ground with it." Payton said with a voice verging upon ecstasy. "That moment was so god damn cool!"

"I thought the part where he locked the dragon's jaw shut with his Quirk right as it was about to breathe fire was more impressive." Jared told him. "I mean, the thing was massive. It must have been very strong. I couldn't imagine doing that myself, certainly not that easily."

"What's a Nidhogg?" Maisie asked, having approached them out of curiosity.

"The Nidhogg was a dragon from Norse Mythology." Payton explained. "Some asshole from Norway, whose Quirk made him look like a dragon, decided to take its name and cause havoc in Oslo. The heroes there at the time couldn't control him, so Supermassive was sent in to help stop him. It didn't take him very long at all."

"Please stop talking about my uncle already." Jon muttered to himself, clearly embarrassed.

"Yeah, stop nerdgasming over there!" Tate snapped from across the room, he and his ghostly twin having noticed their conversation.

Payton and Jared looked at each other and laughed.

"Dude, what copies of his comics do you have?" Jared asked with curiosity.

Payton began counting on his fingers. "All of them, I think." He paused. "Actually, I'm missing issue #1, #11, #37, #49, #66, #82, #99, #100, #101 and #107."

"I have a few of those at home." Jared told him with excitement. "We should totally trade some of them!"

"That would be awesome!" Payton said eagerly back.

From the corner of his eye Jared could see Jon shaking his head awkwardly. He had an expression upon his face which said _seriously, guys, I'm standing right here, and I've no clue what you're talking about. Please stop it already. It's weird._

"Do you have many comics?" Payton asked.

"Loads." Jared told him in geeky excitement. "I have a whole shelf full of them."

"Then do you collect any of the Progenitor's comics?" Payton asked out of curiosity. "I heard a few were made of him in his early days, and I thought, since he's your dad and all, that you might…"

Jared's joyful grin sharply shrank into a glare of resentment. He sighed. He knew it was too good to believe that he had met someone who had the exact same interests as him and _didn't_ care about his famous father."

"No." He said coldly. "I don't have any of his comics."

There was an awkward silence between them, with Payton surprised by Jared's displeasure and Jared's lack of interest in taking the conversation further. Thankfully Maisie broke the silence.

"Who was that girl you were training with, Jared?" She asked, pulled Jared away from what had once been a very geeky conversation.

Jared looked across at Aaren, who had been watching him talk for the last minute, and who quickly glanced away the moment she realised she was being stared at.

"Her name's Aaren." He told her, honestly. He looked back at Maisie. She seemed unusually quiet. Something about the stare she was giving him suggested jealousy, but of what Jared didn't know. "What's with that expression?" He asked.

"Nothing." Maisie said. "I was just curious. I hadn't seen you two talking before."

"She asked to practice with me." Jared told her very quickly. "She didn't really give me a choice."

"I wanted to train with you too." Maisie complained. "It's not that Barbara was a bad partner, she was very kind and friendly, but I still would have liked to -"

Maisie suddenly froze, standing straight in a sharp jolt of motion. Her eyes widened in surprise.

Jared looked at her with concern. "Are you okay?" He asked

Maisie said nothing. Very slowly she turned her head around, and looked downward. Jared followed her stare. Mitchell's ghostly hand was pinching the rim of her dress, lifting it ever so slightly up. He and Tate were both standing a suspicious foot away from her, looking in mere inch below her raised skirt. Then they looked up, and saw Maisie's uncomfortable expression and Jared's look of stunned horror. Mitchell looked back down at Maisie's dress again, then he let go and turned to his brother.

"Pink." He said in a not at all secretive voice.

Jared was glad that the muscles in his jaw were strong, else his mouth might have fallen open. "Dude!" He exclaimed slowly, feeling a bubbling rage within him. "That is not okay!"

"Don't look at me!" Tate exclaimed with bashful surprise. "I didn't tell him to do it!"

"But he did want me to do it." Mitchell added with a wink.

There was a moment of horrified silence. Half the class were looking at the twins with abhorrence.

"Pink what?" Maisie asked.

"Don't." Jared whispered to her quickly, and turned her around so that she wouldn't have to see Tate's blushing, mischievous grin.

"You shouldn't do that." Said one of the senior students who had spotted Tate and Mitchell's behaviour. "It's disrespectful and disgusting."

"Who asked you, grandad?!" Snapped Mitchell. Tate yanked his cord to shut him up. His twin was already causing him trouble.

"Ignore him." Tate told the older student with an embarrassed glance at his brother.

"You won't get much respect from your piers if you behave like that." The older student told him with a very knowledgeable and experienced tone.

"Who said I wanted respect." Tate asked. "I'm just here to have fun."

"That's a horrible motto for a hero." The old man from the other side of the room said.

"Well, it's been working out well for me so far." Tate told them both with confidence. "What's the point in doing something if you can't have fun while doing it?"

Jared couldn't exactly fault that logic on its own. It was always easier to perform a task if you enjoyed that task. However, he wasn't quite sure that it was a good idea to apply that logic to Tate's most recent behaviour. That sort of thinking might get him into trouble with the police.

Tate was about to talk again, when the purple haired boy behind him leaned forwards and whispered something into his ear.

"Shut up." He said, just loud enough for those close to hear.

Tate shut up, and said nothing else for the rest of the day.

Jared felt a cold tingle down his spine. He had felt it a week ago, when the same boy had told him to shut up during Ravenhead's class. He was still not sure why he had shut up. At the time he had presumed it was because of embarrassment. Now he was not too sure. Tate also seemed confused as to why he couldn't talk. Mitchell would not stop laughing at him, until the boy also told him to shut up, and then Mitchell was quiet too.

"I keep doing it." The boy muttered to himself as he turned away from the twins. He placed a hand in front of his face, specifically trying to cover his mouth. He mumbled something else, which was hard to hear past the muffling of his hand, but it sounded like "When will I learn?"

Jared was not sure what that was supposed to mean, but for now he would not let it bother him. It had just struck him that this had been the first time any members of the Junior class had been able to interact directly with the senior class during a lesson. Jared decided it was about time to take advantage of this opportunity and get to know some of the older students. He walked across to two of the older students, the man in his twenties and the middle aged man, who were talking at the left end of the room, and waved at them.

"Hello." He said

They looked back at him. The older of the two men waved back at him with a big smile.

"Hey." He said in a friendlier voice then Jared had expected.

"I don't think I caught your name." Jared said with the tongue of a diplomat. The man looked back at him, and gave him a humble bow.

"Nicholas Hauser." He said warmly. "Though I'd rather you just refer to me as Nick. And yourself?"

"Jared Wreath." Said Jared, bowing back.

"Oh!" The man exclaimed. "Then you're the Progenitor's son. I heard that you were training here."

"I'm not like what you imagined, am I?" Jared said with resigned disappointment.

"No." Nick said, surprised by his self-flagellation. "I don't expect anything from anyone. There's no point in me having _my_ expectations of them. They are their own person, and I am my own. I am not capable of what they are capable of, and they are not capable of what I am capable off. There's no point in having expectations like that."

 _Why were these people not in my life up till now?_ Jared wondered to himself. _First Jon, and now this Nick guy. Seriously, what it wrong with my father that he can't be like them?_

"I'm Felix, by the way." Said the younger man beside him, waving his hand nervously. "Felix Hunter. We're both from the Senior Class, though I don't look it."

"What sort of Quirks do you have?" Payton asked intrusively, having decided to join Jared's conversation and bringing their small group of friends with him. "You both look more or less normal."

Nicholas smiled to himself. "Well, it's a little lacklustre compared to some of our classmate's Quirks." He admitted. "My Quirk is called _Empathy_. Basically, I can feel the emotions of anyone I touch and share my own emotions with them."

"Wow." Jared muttered. "That sounds like a really helpful Quirk."

"It is." Nick admitted. "I was a therapist for several years before this. I helped a lot of people. Then I decided to become a hero, so that I could help more and more people more efficiently."

"That's a very powerful Quirk if used right." Jon told him. "You'd make a great hero with that."

"I hope so." Nick said, blushing at the complements. "Thanks to my Quirk, I've been able to make everyone around me feel happiness. If not for my Quirk, I would not have met my wife. I would not have had my two wonderful children. Because of it, I can resolve any arguments or issues and make sure everyone understand each other."

"You sound like a god!" Payton muttered in awe.

"It's really not that tough to understand people." Nick said with a smile. "It only takes a little bit of empathy."

"My Quirk is nowhere near as impressive as his." Felix admitted. "Mine is called _Cartographer_. I can develop a psychic layout of any location by touching its foundations."

"That still sounds very useful." Jon told him. "I imagine many heroes could use a skill like that."

"Yeah, but it's not so good for fighting criminals, is it." Felix argued. "That's why I'm taking this class. Otherwise I can only really work as a backup hero or a rescue hero."

"Yeah, I can understand that." Jared admitted. "I'm here for the same reason. I'm Quirkless, so I can't really use my power to fight my opponents."

"Quirkless?" Nick said with surprise. Then he nodded, impressed. "Well done for getting this far."

At that moment, Aries returned to the classroom. He was dragging with him a bag full of gear. He threw it to the side of the room and unzipped it, pulling out a collection of punching gloves and punching pads. He placed them into two separate piles, then turned to the class.

"Split into groups of two, and start practicing your punches. Please _only_ do punches for now. I'll teach you how to do kicks later."

"Jared." Said the voice of Aaren, who had crept up behind him while he was listening to their teacher. She gave him the same stubborn, almost emotionless glare.

Jared looked from her to Maisie. "Actually, if it's okay, I wanted to spend some time with my friend." He told her.

Aaren raised her eyebrows at his request, but eventually shrugged and nodded. "Alright. But next week..." She pointed a finger at his chest and prodded him in the ribs. "Next week, we continue."

"Okay." He said, looking away nervously as she turned to leave. He couldn't quite read that girl. He still didn't know why she was helping him. Even if he reminded her of someone she admired, who was that person and why did she admire them? He hoped dearly that she was not another Progenitor fan like that lizard girl. He didn't want to have to deal with two students chasing him for information and autographs.

Jared walked up to the bag and grabbed a pair of gloves and pads each, and took them back to Maisie. He had found a place at the middle of the room, far enough from the other students so that they could have space. He held the pads and gloves up to show her.

"Do you want to hit or take first?" He asked.

"I don't really know how to punch." Maisie told him nervously.

"Take it is, then." He threw her the pads, which she awkwardly caught in her arms. Jared began strapping the Velcro straps of the gloves around his arms, and flexed his fingers within the hard leather. It felt uncomfortable wearing this sort of apparel, yet it would protect his hands so it was worth wearing them. Maisie struggled to apply the pads to her palms, and Jared had to help her out. By the time they were ready, most of the other students had already started.

"Keep your arms steady." Jared told her and he raised his hands up in front of his face. "If you move it too much I might hit you by accident."

"I'm scared it will hurt." Maisie said fearfully, her arms wobbling like jelly.

Jared gave her a kind smile. "I promise I won't hit them too hard."

Maisie tensed her arms, and looked away frightfully. Jared began to jab at the pads. Each strike was slow and light, as he was doing his best not to scare Maisie. At first she flinched every time he lashed out, but as the lesson went on she began to relax more. She got used to the light thudding sensation upon her palms and even got slightly eager to watch Jared performing the attacks.

"You punch really well." She said after a while.

Jared shrugged, as he placed another quick jab upon pad on her left hand. "I suppose." He said, breathing heavily. "I never thought I was especially good."

There was quiet between them, with the grunts and shouts of the other students filling the room with an odd background sound.

"Have you been in many fights?" Maisie asked, after their shared silence had grown unbearable.

Jared looked at her. It was an unusual question for her to ask. "A few." He admitted, not especially proud of the fact.

"Oh." She muttered awkwardly. She held up the punching pads with wide arms, her wrists shaking with nerve. It seemed her arms were getting tired. "Did you ever start any of them?" She asked.

Jared gave a small chuckle. "Usually." He said. "Though they were asking for it."

"Did you ever win?" She inquired with curiosity. Jared's smile slowly faded away.

"Never." He said.

Quiet once more. From behind him came a painful shout from Tate. He had been practicing with Mitchell, and his twin had just punched him in the gut. Currently he was keeling forwards, trying not to retch across the soft floor.

"Did you every fight any girls?" Maisie asked suddenly.

Jared looked at her in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that sort of a question. "Once or twice." He admitted regretfully. "Though I never really argued with them much. There were a few girl who weren't too nice to me. It wasn't like they were weak and fragile, though. They could hit as good as they got."

"I see." Maisie glanced at the floor. "Would you hit me if you had to?"

Jared looked at her. "Not if I could avoid it." He told her, with an expression of pure horror at her suggestion.

"I'm glad." She told him with a weak smile. "I wouldn't want to hit you either."

Jared wasn't sure what she was trying to say, yet somehow that sentiment made his heart feel rather warm. He blushed very slightly.

"I hope we don't have to fight each other in the Combat Exam." Maisie continued, giving him a weak smile.

Jared smiled back. "So do I."

The door to the room sharply opened. Everyone in the class paused to look in its direction. Another student was standing in its shadowy entrance. The boy wearing the gothic dress from Class Junior looked in, eyes closed into squinting slits. Aries turned to him, and gave him a welcoming smile.

"Ty." He said in an unusually kind and warm voice. "You decided to come and join us?"

"I wanted to see the class for myself." Said Ty, his voice quiet and hoarse. He looked at the students within, then turned his attention to the teacher. "It's rather busy." He said emotionlessly.

"Yes, but there's enough room for you." Aries told him. "We don't have much time left but you can still join in with the last ten minutes."

Ty took another look at the class, and Jared noticed his eyes fix upon him. The boy had an unnerving blue gaze. His eyes were marked with veins and red spots, possibly from tears or tiredness. He had heavy black bags under his lower eyelids, and a gaunt pale face, like that of a bloodless corpse. He was worryingly thin, and even his black gothic dress couldn't hide this. Every detail of his body, other than his head, was hidden under dark leather clothing. He even wore gloves, making him look like a ghostly bride from a Victorian horror story.

"No." He said after a moment. "I don't think so."

"Are you sure?" Aries asked with concern. "You came all this way. You might as well join us for a bit. It's dark out there, and cold."

"I'm not staying." Ty told him stubbornly. "I just wanted to see how busy the class was. It's too busy for me."

"Alright." Aries said, disappointed and worried for the boy. "Well, it was good to see you, Ty. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine." The boy said.

"Okay. See you later."

"Goodnight, Kameron."

The door closed behind him. The class were left confused. Jared was surprised by much of what had just happened, but he was especially surprised to hear one of his fellow students refer to their teacher by their first name. Something about the way they had spoken to each other suggested that they knew each other, that their relationship was more than just teacher and student. Jared wasn't sure what to make of it, but he decided that it was not his business and chose to forget about it.

The lesson ended ten minutes later. After ending the class, Aries let them all go. It was getting dark outside. The sun was creating a purple hue across the sky as it shrank behind the wall of the academy. Jared left with Maisie, said goodbye, then walked home by himself. The weather was getting colder, rainier. Autumn was arriving and summer was leaving. And just as quickly as the changing of the seasons, Jared would soon be facing the Combat Exam.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I didn't originally intend for this chapter to be so long. It was supposed to be a short, filler chapter to bring in the concept of the Combat Exam in the next chapter. Then I got carried away with all the little details, as I tend to do, and it became this. I hope you enjoyed it non the less. I had a lot of fun researching stuff for this chapter, such as the districts of the London Region, Norse Mythology and Martial Arts Techniques. Wasn't expecting to do that much work for one chapter, but there you have it.**

 **On a side note, I may have to take a while to write the next chapter. I am planning to split the Combat Exam into several chapters, so I won't write one massive chapter for the event, but I want to make sure that these chapters are as good as I can make them. It will be the first chapter with actually fighting in it, and I don't want it to become to tedious with detail.**

 **Also, I want to avoid leaving these author's notes. I don't really like writing them and I wish to avoid putting one at the end of each chapter. I may leave one every now and then if I feel I need to explain something or apologize for an unexpected hiatus, but I don't really like getting personal and I want this story to be a story, not a blog.**

 **Anyway, thank you for reading this chapter. Please leave any complements or criticisms in the review section. Seriously, it's very helpful. I got some good feedback on the previous chapter, which helped me fix a few mistakes I had made. I'm really grateful for that. Hope you stick around for the next chapter.**


	15. Chapter 13 - The Combat Exam

**Maisie Collard**

* * *

The day of the Combat Exam had arrived. There had been much eager discussion in the days leading up, as the class speculated upon who they would be forced to fight. There were rifts forming, as friends discussed the very real probability that they would be up against each other, forced to use their Quirks to defeat the other in one-on-one combat. Some were eager about the idea, while others were less so. Maisie was one of those not so keen on the concept.

Over the weeks building up to the exam she had been doing as much as she could to prepare. She had spent more time trying to build up her stamina and athletic ability during the PE lessons, hoping that it would help her build up more resistance to the punches she would have to receive. Alongside this, she continued to go along to the self-defence classes on Wednesday evenings with Jared, Jon, Payton and Tate. A few of the original class members stopped going after the first lesson. Ty, the boy in the gothic dress, never showed up after his first appearance, and the girl in the winter coat also stopped turning up. The rest of them were still there, though, focusing heavily upon taking in everything Aries was teaching them so that they would be ready for the exam.

She found it strange that Jared was continuing to train with the redheaded girl during their self-defence classes. He had not seemed especially interested during their first lesson, and had practically been forced into the situation. However, the next week he was the one to approach her about it, which had taken Maisie by surprise. The girl wasn't very nice to him, either. She continuously forced him to push himself, using her Limb Intangibility Quirk to take him by surprise and throw him into difficult scenarios. She would insult him when he did poorly, and mock him for making mistakes and being weaker than her. Yet strangely enough Jared seemed to have no problem with this. He would take her insults and keep going, always standing back to his feet whenever she knocked him down. Maisie couldn't quite figure out what was going on between the two of them. This was not the normal sort of friendly relationship she was used to seeing. In her mind, friendships came from two people being kind to one another. Jared had been kind to her when they first met, and he was being kind to this new girl too, yet she was not being kind to him. Maisie didn't consider beating the other person up to be a form of kindness.

Eventually she had asked Jared why he put up with her insults and unfair lessons. He just smiled back, and he said in a kind voice "Aaren may be playing tough, but she seems to have an actual interest in helping me. I know it looks like she's hurting me, but I graduated from the school of hard knocks. I've taken worse beating in my life. At least she's actually teaching me how to fight back. That's more than my father ever did." Maisie was still not quite sure what he meant by that. If they had the chance to talk, then maybe she would see in Aaren what Jared saw in her. Maisie was a little nervous about that idea. If Aaren behaved this way with Jared, a taller, more imposing boy, how would she behave the same way with Maisie? Would she be more aggressive, more insulting, more demanding? Maisie wasn't sure, and that uncertainty was lasting.

Maisie did manage to make an arrangement with Jared upon the second week of the self-defence classes. Since she also wanted to train with Jared, they had made an agreement that he would spend half of the class training with Aaren, and then the other half training with Maisie. Jared was fine with the suggestion, and after discussing it with Aaren she eventually gave way to the idea. At least Maisie had not lost him completely to this other girl. She wasn't sure why she felt so jealous about their relationship. It wasn't like they were a couple. Neither of them were in any form of a romantic relationship. Maybe it was the fear that she would lose her friend. Aaren may have a rather aggressive personality, but she was also a very pretty girl, even Maisie could see that. Maisie was worried that Jared would be stolen away by her, that he would stop being her friend if that happened. She already found it so tough to make friends. She didn't want to start losing the few that she had.

Now she was standing outside of the academy, on the morning of September the twenty-ninth. She arrived at the academy half an hour earlier than usual, just to make sure that she would be on time. She was practically the first person to arrive. The only other person there was the old man, Elijah, from Class Senior. She tried not to talk to people she didn't know very well, though he seemed like a very nice guy. He was in the self-defence class as well, and he was unusual agile for his age. He looked to be at least seventy, yet he could move like a twenty year old gymnast. They waited outside of the Academy's main building, as eventually more and more students began to turn up, from both the Junior and Senior class. It reminded Maisie of their first day at the Academy, only this time she was feeling much more anxious. It was strange to think that she had started this course only a month ago. The time had gone by so fast. It still felt like yesterday, that first day, meeting the teachers and the other students, the PE lesson that followed and the race that ended it. Time was a fickle thing. While observing it, it would move like hardened mud, yet the moment you looked away it would bolt past like lightning.

As the hour approached ten, more and more of her class mates arrived, as well as the others from Class Senior. Jared was one of the last to arrive, looking surprisingly excited. Over the last few days he had seemed very worried about this exam, even though he had received special training from both Aaren and Aries. There was only a minute left till the hour of the exam, so the two had barely any time to talk.

From the main building, the teachers of the academy stepped out to greet them, as they had done on their first day. At the head of them was Ravenhead, with his colleague's lines up at his sides. The only member of the academy not present was Madam herself. That struck Maisie as odd. Surely the principle and owner of the academy would turn up to such an important exam. There was probably a reason as to why she wasn't there, so Maisie decided not to worry about it and instead focus upon the actual exam.

The six teachers lined up before them: Ravenhead, Dubstep, Aries, Silver Streak, and two others. One of them was a woman in a formal blue suit. The other was a man in a clean medic's uniform. The woman was called Lorraine Osbourne, though she was much better known as Cyanine: the number fifty-three hero in the UK. She taught Class Senior alongside Silver Streak. According to Nicholas Hauser, who she had spoken to once during their Self-Defence class, she had a Quirk which allowed her to freeze people in place by looking at them. She called it _Stasis_ , and apparently she had already used it on two of the more unruly class members. The man was – as he appeared to be – the academy's nurse. He was referred to as Dr Cutter, which Maisie couldn't help but find a little disconcerting. That feeling had faded upon getting to know him. She had once had a bad cold, and had gone to see him during Ravenhead's class. He was one of the nicest men Maisie had ever met. He treated her with sympathy and used his Quirk to make her cold go away. He described his ability as _Targeted Regeneration_. Apparently, by touching somebody, he could encourage their body to heal itself. The effect took longer depending on the sort of damage that needed to be fixed. In the case of Maisie's cold, it took only a few seconds.

As the classes were rounded up, the teachers of Broadhurst Heroism Academy came together to greet them.

"Good morning, everyone." Ravenhead announced in a cheerful, eager voice. "I hope you have all had a relaxing, rest-filled weekend, as today we will be jumping straight into the first of our physical exams. As you've all hopefully remembered, today you will each be taking the Combat Exam. Hopefully you've all been preparing to the fullest of your ability. If you would follow us, we will lead you to the site of the exam."

The two classes of thirty four students followed their teachers outside of the academy grounds, away from the large brick wall. Immediately Maisie began to wonder where they were going. If the exam was not taking place on the Academy ground then were would it be taking place. They followed a small dirt path a kilometre away from the site, heading through a small copse growing at the edge of the city. Beyond that, a large metal building, several metres high and made of pure, glistening steel. Somehow it had been kept hidden within the wall of trees. It was a surprise that none of the students had come across it already. Maisie stared up at it in awe, as the sun's rays reflected in a multitude of colours off its hard, silver structure.

"This is our newly constructed Combat Dome." Ravenhead explained with the excitement of a child. "It was an idea we came up with just recently, actually. We all agreed that having the exam take place on the field would be a bit too risky, so we made a specially made dome constructed just outside of the academy. You can thank Silver Streak for its construction, by the way. He spent the entire weekend putting it together."

There was a series of gasps as everyone looked at the teacher. The hero himself looked away, not wanting their admiration. Maisie was stunned that someone could make something like this in only a few days, and by themselves no less. He must have used his Quirk to construct it. It surprised her that he could do more than destroy with a power like that. Maybe he was not so much unlike herself.

As a group they approached the large building together. At its side was a much smaller building that consisted of one concrete room. It was here that the teachers led them. Aries held the large red doors open for them, and the class entered. Inside the small room was another large red door, and beside it a large monitor screen attached to the wall, with a microphone and speaker plugged into it. On the screen they could see a view of an arena beyond, as several cameras had been placed inside, looking down upon a metal field.

Once the two classes was finally gathered within the room, Ravenhead turned to them in preparation to explain everything that was about to take place. From behind them Silver Streak brought two large ballot boxes in each hand, and placed them upon a table at the other end of the room.

"The rules of this exam are simple. Each match will have two participants, both of whom will be decided by having their names pulled from this ballot box. They will then enter the arena together, and when the call is given, the match will begin. The first student to either knock down their opponent or force them to admit defeat will be announced the victor of their match. If you should lose the match then do not threat, as you will still pass the exam. The only way to fail is to not take part. You are allowed to use your Quirks to the fullest of their capability, even against your opponent. However, we will be watching, and if we believe that a student may be taking things too far we will call off the match and immediately fail the offending student. Please be careful about how you use your Quirks today. We don't need anyone to end up with severe injuries."

Before anyone had the chance to ask questions or start a discussion, the first match of the Combat Exam was decided. Silver Streak plunged his hand into the ballot box, and pulled from it two pieces of folded paper. He unfolded the both of them, and in unison he read their names aloud.

"Anny Volksmarcher and Victoria Brail." He announced loudly.

The class turned towards the two girls, both of whom were very different to one another and wearing a different expression. Victoria, the girl with the grappling hand, was grinning eagerly, excited to be one of the first to fight. Anny, a much smaller girl in a purple dress, was evidently much less eager than her opponent. The both of them headed for the door into the large metal arena, and walked inside.

From the screen upon the wall the class could see the events taking place within the room. A white pitch had been marked out, consisting of two large rectangles adjacent to each other, with a small circle connecting the two together at the middle. Anny stood at the left edge of the field, while Victoria took the right. Once the both of them were ready, Dubstep placed his finger upon a button and from within the arena cam a loud horn blast. The match had begun.

Victoria was the first to move, sprinting quickly towards her opponent with her right arm pulled back. From the distant view of the camera, Maisie could tell that she was preparing to launch her hand across the field. This was indeed what she did, as her thin claw of a limb expelled itself from her circular wrist, a strand of fleshy rope following after it. Anny stood still, staring as the limb came flying towards her.

And then she made a sharp and sudden movement to the left. The grappling hand flew straight past her, nearly catching her long black hair as it dug its sharp fingers into the ground. Victoria stopped and yanked back her arm, forcing the rope to begin winding itself back in. Her skinny hand freed itself from the ground, pulling up a chunk of metal flooring. Victoria fired again, this time much closer to her target. Anny turned and ran.

"What is she doing?" Muttered George, as the class watched the thin claw chase after her, going at speeds much faster than its target. "She hasn't even tried to fight back."

Indeed Anny seemed to be making no attempt to fight her opponent, instead relying on her quick reactions to avoid the incoming attacks. She narrowly dodged the claw once more, as it very nearly grabbed her by the hair. She was running towards the far wall, and Victoria was chasing after her.

"Get back here!" Victoria yelled, reeling her hand back in to fire once more.

Anny stopped. The metal wall was dead ahead of her. Barely a foot away, she turned. Victoria fired her claw once more. The metal limb missed any by an inch, as Anny stumbled sideways, placing her dainty hand upon the wall. She then began to run, this time heading for the wall to her left. Victoria followed, aiming her arm a few metres above her target. She fired, sending it in an upwards ark. It hit the wall and latched itself to the metal. Then, reeling herself in, Victoria began to swing forwards, sliding across the floor at surprising speed towards Anny. The girl was nearly at the wall now. One kick would be enough to knock her out.

Then Anny that did something that surprised her. Placing her hand upon the wall, she ducked. There was a sudden flash of purple, and in her place was a hole. This hole was oval shaped and purple in colour, and it sat upon the wall like a painting. Through it Victoria could see more room, more metal walls and metal flooring. And, shockingly enough, she could see herself. It was too late to stop now. She let go of the wall, yet the momentum of her slide kept her moving. Anny moved aside, and Victoria went through the hole. She reappeared in another part of the arena, by the wall where she had originally trapped Anny. There was another hole there, the same shape and colour.

Victoria stood up and looked around, disoriented. She saw the portal behind her, and spotted the one on the wall a few metres away. She looked for Anny, but could not see her. The girl had disappeared. The portal on the far wall sharply closed itself with a gentle pop, and underneath her feet another one opened up. Victoria had no time to react before she fell straight through it. She landed in the exact same place she had been, hurting her bottom with the sudden impact. In front of her stood Anny, crouched down with her fingers at the edge of the portal on the ground. She looked up and saw her opponent, and Victoria glared furiously back at her."

"Stop playing games with me!" She demanded, and swung her metallic arm in Anny direction.

The girl dived into the portal like a seal into water, and vanished as the arm swung over her head. Enraged, Victoria blindly pointed her grappling hand into the portal and fired. The hand shot through the portal and came out the other side, striking her in the back of the head. Victoria stumbled forwards with a gasp. Then she collapsed, falling into portal and falling out the other side.

Anny reappeared from her hiding spot within, and stood beside the girl as both portals closed behind her. She knelt down beside Victoria and looked at her. Then she stood back up and crossed her arms.

There was another loud horn blast, before an announced came through the speakers. "Victoria is down. The victor of the first match is Anny!"

No one had quite expected this result. There was a shocked series of claps from the class as the Anny walked back into the room, and Aries helped Dr Cutter carry Victoria out on a stretcher. Apparently she hadn't done any serious damage to herself, she'd only knocked herself unconscious. It took the doctor not much more than three minutes to get her back onto her feet. The first match had been short and shocking. Maisie wondered just how the rest of the matches would go.

Two more names were swiftly picked from the box. The participants of the second match were announced as Rylie Taylor and John Quincy, who was usually referred to as John-Two, or Triclops. The reptilian girl and the bald, three eyed boy entered to room together and took up places on either side of the field.

Like the previous match, their fight did not last very long. Most of the class were expecting Riley to win, as she was the more fearsome of the two. She had plenty of natural weapons. Her teeth and claws were sharp, and her tail made a pretty solid whip. As Dubstep started the match, she sprinted towards her opponent, hunched forwards with her head down and spine arched, her tail erect and swinging behind her. Watching her move awoke a sort of subconscious terror in Maisie, as if she was about to watch a lion make a kill.

However, just like Anny, it appeared that John had a few tricks up his sleeve. Just like her, he had not shown off his Quirk until now, and as such Rylie wasn't aware of what to watch out for. John held up both his hands in front of him, and spread them wide. Then he lowered them again, and stood with his arms at his side. He didn't move from the spot. He stayed there, right up until the point Rylie attacked.

She must have thought that the fight would be easy. It was the only reason Maisie could think of to explain why she didn't stop and think about the situation. Rylie was a foot away, swinging her sharp claw downward towards John's neck. It would have hit him, if it had not hit something else first. There was a strange, gong-like sound, and before the boy a series of translucent ripples washed across the room. Rylie had indeed hit something, though what that something was none of them could see. Rylie lashed out again, and again she struck this invisible object.

It turned out that what she was hitting was a wall. A large, invisible wall stood in her way, formed by John's now opened third eye. Wherever it looked, a new wall would form, unseen by his target and by anyone observing their fight. For Rylie, the battle was already over. She tried to cut her way through the unseen structure but couldn't so much as scratch it. Then, realising her mistake way too late, she turned to walk around the unseen object, only to walk straight into another wall. No matter which direction she tried to turn, there was already a wall there. John had trapped her within his force field. It appeared that this was his Quirk's true ability.

After five minutes passed, Dubstep eventually called the end of the match, announcing John Quincy as the victor. Rylie was fuming when she returned to the class. She had her arms folded and her fangs bared. Her opponent did his best to keep his distance from her, even though he had just beaten her in a fair fight and come out unscathed. Nobody could blame him for this. None of them wanted to be on the other end of those claws.

Two matches were already over, and another ten were yet to take place.

The hand was plunged into the box once more, and from it another two names were pulled out. A tense second passed, before the participants were called.

"Maisie Collard and Freya Westergaard."

Maisie froze. She had been dreading this moment, even though she had known it would be coming. She had hoped to be picked for one of the last fights, and against someone she wouldn't feel so scared about fighting. She didn't know a thing about this girl. They had never spoken. Of course she had seen her in class and on the sports field. It was not hard to forget her, as she was the only student in the school who used a wheelchair. Yet that did not exactly comfort Maisie much. It was bad enough that she would have to fight another students. She had never even considered the chance that she would be forced to fight a disabled students. Now she was feeling a massive surge of guilt as well as anxiety.

"Whenever you're both ready." Ravenhead told them. The class made a path for Freya to get through, and Maisie followed awkwardly behind her. Aries held the door open for them.

"Good luck, Maisie!" Came Jared's voice. She turned, and saw him smiling at her. He held up his hand, and gave her a confident thumbs up.

She smiled back. Those two words were exactly what she needed to boost her confidence.

"Yeah." Tate joined in. "Break a leg!"

It was evident that Tate had not exactly thought that comment through, as several of his fellow classmates gave him a shocked look. He looked back at them awkwardly. Maisie didn't get to see what happened next, as the door shut behind her.

She turned. Freya had already driven herself across to the right side of the field. Still feeling awkward about the opponent she had to face, Maisie took her place at the left side of the field. They both waited for the announcement for the fight to begin. When it did, it was much louder than Maisie had been expecting. She covered her ears as the sharp, explosive sound echoed through the large metal room. It took several seconds for it to finally die away. Maisie pulled her hands away, dreading that she would see Freya speeding towards her upon her mobile seat. However, Freya mad not moved from her spot. She was staring at Maisie, with a strangely happy smile.

"Listen, I don't really want to fight you." Maisie called across to her, not sure what else she was supposed to say. "This doesn't feel right. I don't want to hurt someone who is disabled."

Freya just smiled back at her. Whatever reaction Maisie had been expecting, a smile was not it.

"That's very kind of you to say that." Freya called back. "But this is an exam. We have to fight. If we don't, we fail."

"Yeah, but…" Maisie tried to argue. The subject was uncomfortable for her. "I mean… you're at a disadvantage, surely. This isn't fair on you. It wouldn't feel right for me to hurt you, because…"

"Because of my wheels?" Freya asked, rearing on her seat. She leaned back, lifting the front wheels of her chair off the ground. She lowered them back down after a second, and continued to smile at her opponent. "I'll be fine. My legs may not work so great, but I can still fight back."

"Are you sure?" Maisie asked. "I can go easy on you. I don't really want to fight anyway…"

Freya shook her head, still grinning. "I find it more insulting that you _don't_ want to fight me." She told her honestly. "Do you really feel that I'm too weak to defend myself? Just because I'm disabled doesn't mean I'm incapable. Please, don't treat my disability like a handicap. I wish to be treated the same as anyone else. So stop making excuses. Forget about my wheels… and fight me as if I were a normal person!"

Maisie gritted her teeth. "O-okay!" She shouted. Placing her right foot forward, she ran towards her opponent. It felt strange pushing herself to hurt another person. She had never so much as tickled anyone before. She didn't like how it felt to clench her fist with the intent to strike. Freya continued to sit there, unmoving. She didn't so much as swivel her chair. She watched and waited as Maisie sprinted forwards, her arm pulled back to punch.

Maisie came to a screeching stop a foot in front of Freya. She pulled back her arm, and looked her dead in the eyes. Then her arm began to shake. She was trembling. In her mind, thoughts of how awful she would be to strike a disabled person were released into her consciousness like water through a burst dam. She lowered her arm, trying not to cry.

"I can't." She muttered, apologetically. "I can't hurt you."

Freya looked up at her, a smaller smile still present on her face, though she was curious as to what was holding her opponent back. "You can." She tried to encourage. "If it really upsets you, I'll let you land one for free. I won't dodge or block or punch back."

Maisie wiped her eyes, trembling violently.

"No, I can't do it." She insisted. "My dad would be furious with me if I did. My parents always taught me to respect those less fortunate than myself. They said that a good person never harms the weak or innocent. I want to be a hero, but if I go against that rule then I will only be a bad guy. So I cannot hurt you, not even now."

Freya seemed genuinely stunned by her words. She looked at Maisie in shock, and weakly she smiled back at her.

"I'm grateful that you really care about my feelings." She said kindly. "But this is an exam. You won't be a bad guy if you punch me."

"I don't want to." Maisie snivelled. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I want to help them. That's the sort of hero I want to be."

Freya leaned back in her wheelchair, not sure what to think.

"Then why don't you let me help you?" She asked. "I'll end this fight for you. Would that make you feel like less of a bad guy?"

Maisie nodded weakly. "Yeah."

Freya held out her hand. "Then let's shake hands and forgive each other."

Maisie reached out with her own palm, sweating and shaking. She felt a little better being able to admit her fear to her opponent, and knowing that Freya was of a similar mind and helped her relax more. She was glad that she could end this fight without having to hurt anyone.

Maisie took Freya's hand. And a moment later… she was flying through the air. She had no time to process what was happening, as her body was sharply turned upside down and lifted over Freya's head. Everything moved in a blur, as the air around her roared with the fast and powerful movement. Maisie could barely even speak. It all happened so fast. And then she struck the ground, landing hard upon her back. Maisie gasped, as her lungs were squeezed like deflating balloons, and all of the oxygen within escaped into the atmosphere. A small wheezing sound followed after it, as her body tried to recover from the sudden impact.

Freya appeared above her, leaning forward from her wheelchair and looking down at the collapsed girl. She winced upon seeing the state which Maisie was left in, and bit her lip.

"Sorry." She apologised. "I didn't mean to land you quite that hard."

Maisie's lungs were currently incapable of forming any sort of recognisable words. She could only wheeze back in painful response. The lights in the room were starting to blur. The pain she had been feeling was now growing numb, and she wasn't sure that this was a good thing. She couldn't feel her legs anymore. She was starting to worry that she would end up in a wheelchair, just like Freya.

The end of match alarm sounded, and Dubstep's voice reverberated through the room.

"Maisie is down. The victor of this match is Freya."

* * *

Maisie had to be carried out on a stretcher. She couldn't stand. She could barely feel anything in her legs. She was carried back into the waiting room, where Dr Cutter used his Quirk to help fix up her body. The moment he placed his hands upon her legs, Maisie began to regain sensation within them. His diagnosis was that she had fractured her lower spine. It would take an hour for the bone to properly heal and re-join. By then Maisie would be back to normal. Till then her body was screaming with pain, and though she could feel her toes again she could not feel the rest of her legs.

She was barely conscious for the fourth match. She learned later that the participants had been Payton Moon and the spine covered by named Philip Keel. Apparently Philip had won rather easily, as Payton was fearful of ripping his wings upon his opponent's spines, and had accepted a quick defeat.

During this time Freya sat beside Maisie, her wheelchair resting against the side of the raised stretcher. When Maisie regained consciousness five minutes later she was still there, her hand resting upon the girl's leg in an almost mothering sort of caring. When she noticed Maisie sit up, she smiled and let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness. I thought I'd done some serious harm to you." She apologised. "Sorry about that. I forget my own strength sometimes."

Maisie looked at her, confused. She shook her head, not sure what she was saying. "Sorry?" She asked.

"That's my Quirk, you see." Freya explained. " _Power Arms_ , it's called. My body converts sugars and proteins into energy which is sent directly to my arms. However, a side effect is that none of it goes to my lower body, and as a result my legs are too weak to support me. That's why I'm in this wheelchair. In terms of stat rolls I got a high roll in power, and a low roll in mobility."

Maisie shook her head, trying to understand what had just been said. Her brain felt like sludge. "So… you're not disabled?"

"Oh, I am!" Freya explained quickly. "Just not for the reasons other people like myself are. Usually people aren't bound to a mobile chair because of their Quirk."

Maisie sat up, wincing painful.

"Hey, be careful!" Freya said with worry. "You're still healing up. Give yourself some time."

"Where's Jared?" Maisie asked, looking around. The rest of the class were stood watching the fifth match upon the screen. The participants were Lavender Marshall and Melanie Yarrow, and it appeared that this fight had been going on for quite a while. Lavender's energy beams were barely grazing Melanie's toughened skin.

"Your friend came to see you earlier." Freya explained. "You'd fallen unconscious by then. He was very worried about you. Cutter told him that you needed an hour to rest, so for now he's going to keep his distance and let you recover."

Maisie felt like she should have smiled, though it was tough to do so at this point. The pain was starting to kick back in. She could feel her lower back aching, and the sensation which had now returned to her legs was bringing with it the sharp pricking of pins and needles.

"What you said during our fight…" Freya continued, turning from the screen to face Maisie again. "I didn't get to properly say it, but… thank you. It was the wrong place and the wrong time, but I really appreciate that you would think about me in that way. People don't always do that."

Maisie sniffed. "You're welcome." She muttered weakly.

"But, if I must be honest, that kindness of yours will only make things tough for you." Freya explained, speaking as kindly and as sympathetically as she could. "No villain will care about your good heart or your hang-ups. They'll take advantage of that sort of thing, and use it against you. You can't show a villain that sort of kindness. You should have treated me as a villain, then maybe you would have found it easier to fight me."

Maisie shrugged, unsure. She knew that Freya was right, but she didn't want to believe it. She wanted to believe that there was good in everyone, that she wouldn't have to hurt them in order to stop them. She knew that heroes were well recognised for their fights against villains, but that was not what she wanted to do. She wanted to be a hero, but would that end be worth causing physical pain to others?"

There was a sudden cheer from the class. Freya smiled, sharply jolting out of her more serious conversation.

"It appears that the fifth match is over already." She said.

Indeed, Dubstep was leaning into his microphone to make an announcement. "The victor of the fifth match is Lavender!" He stated proudly.

It seemed that most of the class had been expecting this result. Though Melanie had put up a good fight, her Quirk was much less useful for combat than her opponents, and as such Lavender had been able to use it to continuously strike her opponent down, no matter how tough Melanie's skin had been.

"Come on, let's go see who's up next." Freya told her with a pat on the shoulder. Maisie looked at her.

"I'm not sure I can manage it." She said. "My legs still feel… weird."

Freya gave her a cheeky grin. "If you like, you can have my wheelchair. Don't worry, I'll manage. I'll just crawl over there."

Maisie gave her a concerned look. Then, gathering her confident, she slid her legs off the raised stretcher and stood upon them. It was a strange sensation. Her body was still recovering from its injuries. Her legs were only just strong enough to keep her standing, though they felt faint and weak. Maisie had an odd sensation of floating, as if her legs were not actually there and her torso was hovering a few feet above the ground. Freya put her hand on Maisie's back, unable to reach her shoulder, and helped support her as she tried to regain balance.

"A good sign." She muttered. "At least you won't be permanently paralyzed."

"Thank you, Freya." Maisie muttered.

The girl gave her a smile. "The least I can do." She said in response. "You were merciful to me, after all."

"Please don't tell anyone else about that." Maisie pleaded with her.

It was now that Freya gave her a grim look. "I don't need to. Everyone else already saw it, and heard it too."

That realization had only just struck Maisie. The whole fight had been caught on camera. The entire class had watched it upon the screen, as they had done with the other matches that had taken place so far. A horrid bombardment of embarrassment struck her emotional heart. She wondered in horror what the rest of the class had thought of her. She must have seemed so weak after facing such an easy defeat.

She returned to the group as Lavender and Melanie walked through the doorway. Melanie was bruised and exhausted, while Lavender was still full of energy and grinning at the other girls with pride. It had not been an especially fair fight, though their names had been picked at random so nobody could complain. Not even Melanie said anything about it. While she looked disappointed about her performance, she wasn't blaming her opponent for her defeat. She seemed to be accepting it as her own fault, and made a pledge to train and do better in the next exam.

"Are you okay?" Asked Jared, as Maisie reunited with class and stood herself gently at the edge of the crowd. "You shouldn't be standing up. You need to rest."

"I'm fine." She said with a nervous smile. "Dr Cutter said that I'll be fully recovered in an hour or so. I just have to take things slow and be careful. Is there a seat anywhere?"

Jared looked around, and spotted a single metal folding chair at the back of the room. Tate was sitting on it. This did not discourage Jared from taking the piece of furniture, as he casually pushed Tate of and quickly pulled the chair away from him and carried it over to Maisie. She sat down, glad to be able to rest her weakened spine again. It was a little uncomfortable sitting with an injured back, and the chair was by no means a comfortable one, but Maisie was just about able to relax.

"Did you watch my fight?" She asked, closing her eyes as a spark of pain set off in her lower spine.

Jared looked at her awkwardly. "Yeah." He admitted.

"Tell me… how bad did it look?" Maisie asked.

Jared bit his lip, trying to think of a kind way to word it. "Well, she sort of just… grabbed you and lifted you over her head. Then she dripped you. It was very strange to watch. It looked like it really hurt."

"It did." Maisie said with a wince. "I must have looked so pathetic."

"No." Jared insisted, giving her a hopeful grin. "Sure, you didn't really do any fighting, but that little speech you gave-"

Maisie had been dreading to hear about that. That fear of hers was what had led to her injury. If only she had managed to pluck up the gall to punch Freya, then maybe she would not have seemed so pathetic.

"-It was very moving." Jared finished.

Maisie looked at him. "Really?" She asked, not glad but suspicious. She wondered if he was lying to cheer her up.

"No, seriously, it made sense. You didn't want to fight Freya because you thought it was unfair. I don't blame you for thinking about that." She shrugged. "Unfortunately Freya's not quite as incapable as she seems, but you weren't wrong for being considerate. Though maybe next time you'll remember this and not get caught out twice."

Maisie smiled at him. Somehow Jared had found a way to make her feel better about everything. Though the embarrassment of her loss had not gone away, at least she didn't feel so awful about her choices. She knew now that someone admired her decision to restrain herself from hurting a disabled opponent. Maybe that was the sort of hero she should aim to be. If she could manage it, she wanted to avoid hurting anybody, even if it meant hurting herself to achieve this. Though restraint, she had made an impression. In addition to this, it appeared she had made a friend in Freya as well.

Aries reached his hand into the ballot box, preparing to decide the names of the sixth match. When he pulled it out, he had two slips of folded paper between his thick fingers. He unfolded them, and announced the next combatants. There was a hanging suspense, as the class members who had not taken part yet waited with either eager anticipation of fearful anxiety for their name to be called.

Aries looked up, and loudly announced the students who would fight in match six.

"Jared Wreath and Tate Anderson."

Maisie looked at her friend, as the class began to mutter to themselves. Jared was evidently shocked to hear his own name called out.

"So, we're gonna see Quirkless fight, already?" Jason muttered with a spiteful grin. "This should be entertaining."

Jared didn't respond to his insults. He turned, and saw the twins approaching him from the back of the room. Tate put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, buddy. Let's get this over with."

Jared shook his hand off, and gave him no response.

"Whenever you're ready-" Ravenhead began.

"Yeah, yeah, we got it." Mitchell announced with excitement. Of the two twins, he was the more eager to take place in the fight.

Ravenhead blinked. "Okay then." He said, awkwardly, and opened the door for the three boys to enter through.

"I'll see you later." Jared whispered to Maisie as he turned to leave. He didn't look happy about this situation. Of all the people he could fight, it seemed that Tate and Mitchell were not high upon this list.

Maisie watch as he walked away. She was worried about him. She had seen the fights that had come before him, and had partaken in one of them. These other teenagers who were studying alongside them were already very capable with their Quirks, and Jared was the only one of them without any form of power. It had already been made clear that he could not use his stun gun in this fight, so he would be facing Tate unarmed. She felt it was unfair. He really should have faced her. As much as she hated the idea, at least he would have a strong chance of winning if he were to fight Maisie. But she had already been, and could not go again. She couldn't do anything to assist him, and she felt awful about it. Though maybe there was one way she could help him.

"Jared." She called out. Jared paused at the open doorway, and looked back at her, as did the rest of the class. Maisie felt their gazes upon her, and for a moment she faltered. Anxiety was threatening to take over, but she swallowed it down and spoke aloud once more. "You can win this!"

Jared looked at her, surprised. Then he smile, and with a nervous hand he gave her thumbs up. "I'll be fine." He told her, as the door closed behind him.


	16. Chapter 14 - Wreath Vs Anderson

**Jared Wreath**

* * *

It was eerily cold within the arena. This was the first thing Jared noticed. He wasn't sure why his mind was focusing upon such a small, unimportant detail. Maybe it was the anxiety getting to him. He had been in fights before. He'd had an audience while brawling with other teenagers before, and had been both cheered for and jeered at. It wasn't the premise of fighting that he was afraid off. Unlike any fight he had been in before, however, this one would actually affect his future. The teachers may have stated that loosing would not mean failing the exam, but they said nothing about how it would actually benefit to lose. If he won, he would have taken a massive step towards proving himself as a capable hero, and becoming the first Quirkless hero. If he lost, not only would he have gone nowhere, he might even end up stepping backwards. That was what truly scared Jared. He had done so much work in getting just this far. He was terrified to lose it all.

That morning he had eaten a quick breakfast and hurried to the academy, as ready as he would ever be. Other than the weeks of training during the Physical Education and Self-Defence classes, he'd had done not much to prepare himself. The only additional thing he had done that morning was look at the drawing his younger brother Julian had made for him. He did this every now and then, to remind himself of what he was trying to achieve. It always brought a warm glow to his heart. Every time he saw it, he was reminded that someone was still supporting him.

He had gone into the exam as prepared as he could be, though even such thorough preparing could not account for random chance. He had spent the weeks before planning out various methods which he could use to defeat the other students, taking into account each of their Quirks and talents – at least the ones he knew of. Each of them had a big advantage over him purely because they had a Quirk and he did not, but even with that in account some of them would have made better opponents for him than others. Tate may have been one of the worst possible people for him to fight. While he didn't have a powerful Quirk like Jason, George or Lavender, or combat talent like Aaren, unlike them he had the advantage of a permanent ally. Jared wouldn't just be fighting Tate, but Mitchell as well. He would have to face both of the Anderson twins at once.

While Jared was not pleased with this arrangement, Tate and Mitchell seemed thrilled by it. They had not stopped grinning since they're heard their names called out alongside his. As the door had closed behind them, and they'd been left to prepare for the fight, Tate had turned to Jared and patted him sharply on the back.

"No hard feelings about your loss." He said, his arrogant tone lacking any respect or humility. "You just got unlucky. Out of everyone I could have fought, I was fortunate enough to face you."

That comment had made Jared's blood boil. The brothers were looking down at him, as everyone else did. They thought he was weak, because he was not like them. Jared was done being weak. He was done being looked down upon. If he could win this fight, he could prove that he was not weak. If he could defeat Tate, he would be strong for the first time in his life. If he won, he would prove he could become a hero.

He took his place on the left side of the white-marked field. Tate and Mitchell stood opposed to him from the right side. The ever boastful Tate stood with his hands upon his hips, baring a confident grin upon his scrawny face. Mitchell had a similar expression, though his was more mischievous in nature. Jared did have one advantage over them. He had spent the last month taking the self-defence classes alongside Tate. He had seen his fighting style in use, albeit against punching bags and hand pads. He was clumsy and thoughtless with his punches. He would throw a fist the same way a normal person throws a baseball. His wrist was way too lose and his arms moved too much, that he would often sprain himself after making a simple hit. He had not improved his swing at all since joining the class. He wouldn't think before attacking, and left himself open while doing so. This was one area in which Jared could benefit. Tate did, at the very least, have a weakness. He only needed to fight the right time and the right place to strike at that weakness, and then maybe he would come out of this fight as the victor.

While mired in his thoughts and plans, Jared didn't at first notice the horn sounding for the start of the match. He looked up sharply and saw Tate sprinting towards him, with Mitchell in tow.

"Let's do this thing!" Bellowed the eager teenager, "Come at me, Jared!"

He swung back his arm for a punch, using the same flexing arm technique which Jared had seen during their self-defence classes. He still had not learned how to punch properly. That didn't mean that it wouldn't hurt, however, and if Jared didn't act quickly his attack would hit its mark.

He stepped back, raising his hands to block the attack with his forearm. Tate's attack missed by a few feet. However, Tate's true plan came into play. As his punch swung at the air between him and his target, Mitchell moved quickly past, and came up beside Jared. With a swift turn, he struck Jared in the cheek. Jared stumbled, and tripped sideways. He hadn't been expecting such a sudden assault. He nearly fell to his knees, but caught himself and stepped away. Mitchell's attack had been vicious. It appeared that his ability to move through objects was optional, and he could still interact with the physical world when he wanted to.

Tate stood in place, laughing at him. Jared didn't know why he hadn't taken advantage and attacked him again. Maybe Tate was just stupid. "Didn't see that coming, did ya?" He gloated, pointing down at his opponent. "That's what comes from having a ghost as a twin!"

Jared rubbed his jaw. A red bruise mark had been left, but it was faint and light. It would heal up fine in a few days. He steadied himself and glared at his opponents. "You landed one punch." He reminded them, raising his fist. "Don't get too confident yet. This fight has just started."

Tate raised a cocky eyebrow, almost mocking him. "I can't believe how lucky I am, getting pitted against you." He muttered with a chuckle. "Anyone else might have been less fun." He paused mid gloat to blush slightly. "Except maybe that friend of yours. That would probably be much more fun."

"Wink, Wink." Mitchell added, slowly acting out the repeat action for his starting opponent

"Okay, I've had enough of this!" Jared interrupted. He pointed a finger a Tate and Mitchell, and glared at them with narrow eyes. "You need to start leaving Maisie alone, okay?" He demanded. "These comments you make, the strange looks, the personal questions, the lifting up her skirt… it's not okay! Stop doing it!"

Tate looked at him, eyebrows still raised, and folded his arms. "Why?" He asked. He said it as if he was a child that didn't know the difference between right and wrong yet. Jared looked back, stunned by such a response.

"Because it's harassment!" He argued. "Do you need any other reason?

Tate blinked, and for a moment he had nothing to say in response. Then, to Jared's surprise, he chuckled.

"Where is this coming from?" He asked in a voice that mixed mockery, humour and confusion. "What are you, her boyfriend?"

"That's not the point!" Jared snapped at him, not wanting to take the conversation down that route. Before he could continue, Tate had folded his arms and butted in with his own argument.

"Listen, I'm just putting myself out there." He stated casually. "A little bit of flirting never hurt anybody. If she doesn't like it, why has she not said anything? You can't blame me for liking someone. You can't blame me for noticing a pretty girl."

"Yeah." Mitchell added with a sly grin. "I mean, she chose to wear a skirt, of course I was going to have a peek!"

Jared genuinely wanted to throw up at that comment. His pointing finger curled back into a clenching fist, and he glared at his opponent. He had felt this sensation before. It came along whenever he had to deal with a person who held a despicable belief. Often it was because of their views of Quirkless people, and as a result that anger was in defence of himself. This was the first time he had felt such a fiery rage for the sake of someone else. He had come into this fight not exactly wanting to hurt Tate, but knowing he had to in order to pass the exam. Now that had changed. Now, exam or no exam, he was going to punch him straight in the face.

"Why are we wasting time talking?" Tate asked his brother, that same mocking grin upon his face. "We're in the middle of an exam. Now, Mr Progenitor Junior– "

"What?" Jared muttered.

Tate outstretched his arm in a sharp punch. "–Come at me with everything you've got!" He bellowed.

This was the first time that Jared felt inclined to take Tate's advice, and it felt especially disturbing to realise that after the statements he had just made. Jared ran at Tate, propelled by fury and disgust. Again Tate backed away, and let his brother deal with the actual fighting. Jared struck at Mitchell, but his arm went through his translucent body as if it were mist. Mitchell laughed at him, and punched back, swinging an uppercut into Jared's chin. Jared teetered backwards, almost falling flat. Although Tate had a clumsy manner of attack, his brother was much better versed in the area of combat.

"That one looked like it hurt!" Mitchell taunted, teeth gritted in a mocking grin.

Jared couldn't manage a response. The world was spinning. He could feel gravity altering within his skull, as his brain sloshed about like soup. He was in a state of disorientation, and the twins were about to take full advantage of this.

"Here. Let up help you out there!" Tate said, sprinting towards Jared. "Hold still!" He struck Jared between the eyes with a sharp punch, knocking him flat onto his back. Jared lay there, hands upon his face and yelling in pain. He sat up a second later, though his vision was no better for the attack. He could see red dripping from between his brow. His nose felt wonky and his senses were disconcertingly acute and dizzy.

"That… hurt…!" Jared muttered, struggling to think of the words with his stunned brain.

"Oh, sorry, that was an accident!" Tate mocked. He and his brother folded their arms confidently.

"You should just stay down and let the fight end!" Mitchell told him cruelly. "You've already lost. You can't fight the both of us at once."

Jared stumbled back to his feet. His chin, cheek and brow were throbbing with pain, his vision was fogging and his pride was wounded. He could feel his legs shaking as he stood upon them, either from aching or adrenaline, and Jared couldn't tell which. Yet he would not do as the Anderson's had suggested, and back down so easily. He straightened his back, breathed in deeply, and then out heavily. He was doing his best to compose himself.

Evidently this fight would not be an easy one, and if Jared wanted to win he would have to be careful and cunning. He had fought multiple assailants before. Tate and Mitchell were nothing special in that respect. Fighting two was much easier than fighting five, or six, or seven. But the issue came with his opponent's Quirk. Atop his ability to move through solid objects while also freely interacting with them, Mitchell seemed to know exactly what Tate was planning, without either of them having to say anything. That suggested that the two shared some sort of psychic link. Tate had not mentioned such an ability before, but that did not mean it wasn't there. He could have been trying to hide it. That, or they had been planning and practising this method of attack before the exam, and were just going through the motions. If that was the case, then Jared had a chance. If he could interrupt whatever their plan was, then maybe he could surprise them enough to land his own attacks. Tate didn't seem like the kind of person who could think on his feet. He usually didn't think while standing still. That seemed to be Jared's best chance of winning. The biggest difficulty would be finding a way to hurt Tate. He was playing defensive, while Mitchell was making all of the attacks. Jared had already seen the lack of effect his punches had on the ghostly brother, so the better option would be to go for the solid one.

As his brain began to solidify, Jared attempted to think up a plan to win this fight. As far as he could tell, he only had one advantage over the brothers. While both of them could think and move by themselves, they could only travel so far from each other before getting pulled back by their cord. If Jared were to leave that range, Tate would have to move so that Mitchell could continue to chase him. It would mean that, in order to press the attack, Tate would have to move from his defensive spot. If Jared could find a way to manipulate this for his benefit then maybe he could win this fight. It would be no use trying to fight back against Mitchell. If he wanted any chance of winning this fight, he had to go for Tate.

A plan had formed in his mind. It was simple and had a high chance of failing, but the risk was worth taking if he truly wanted to win this fight. Jared took a step forward, and the brothers watched him with mockingly confused stares.

"Not giving up yet?" Take said, cracking his knuckles. "Okay then. We'll just have to punch you a bit harder."

The both of them ran at Jared, who had only moved two footsteps away from his original place. As they were about four metres away, Tate skidded to a stop, though Mitchell continued to move, gliding through the air with the ghostly movements of his transparent legs. He was pulling back an arm to swing a hook punch.

It was only as he was a foot away that Jared reacted. He had been waiting for the right time to test a question on his mind. Could Mitchell solidify any part of his body? He could clearly make his hands physical, but could he do this with any other area. It was unlikely that Mitchell would stop to answer this question himself, so Jared made the effort to learn it instead. As Mitchell swung in with his attack, he ducked, and to his attacker's surprise he lunged forwards. His arm went straight through Mitchell's body, as his otherworldly punch went over Jared's head. With no other choice but to follow through, Jared rolled forwards, pushing himself through his assailant like. Stepping inside of Mitchell's body was like stepping into a tiny pocket of nothingness. Jared felt a horrid chill pass across his body, as if he was being gradually teleported to space and back. When he stepped back out, he was kneeling behind the ghostly brother. Mitchell was staring downwards in shocked silence, not quite sure what had just happened.

Now was Jared's chance. With the more troublesome of the two brothers stunned behind him, he was free to attack the weaker one. Tate was staring at him, the first mild hint of actual fear in his eyes. Jared wasted no time thinking. He ran at Tate, sprinting faster than he ever had before.

"Mitch!" Tate bellowed. His brother turned, but already it was too late to protect him. Jared was a mere metre away.

The Quirkless boy held his head low and his back arched, his eyes fixed upon his target. He could see Tate staring back, his arms readied to defend himself. It was only afterwards that Jared realised that he had been smiling as he ran. Not the kind of jovial, friendly smile which he put on when talking with Maisie or Jon. This smile was one of teeth and glee, of adrenaline and retribution. This was the first time Jared had felt that he could win a fight. In that split second between his run and his attack, he recalled the faces of all the other children who had ever bullied him, the teachers who had said he would never amount to anything. And then his father's face, his eyes judging him with a cold gaze. The anger that he always felt, which was born from his existence as a minority, the child of a hero born with no Quirk, that had always been there during any of his confrontations, had become more than just a flame in his heart. Now… he could win!

Mitchell was running after him, catching up, his mistral legs moving rapidly in a desperate sprint. It would only take a few seconds for him to reach his brother, but that wouldn't be quick enough. Jared had already reached Tate.

In defence, Tate lashed out with a quick and flimsy jab of the right fist, but Jared had no trouble in dodging it. His training during the self-defence class came back to him in a flash. The many times he had performed the shoulder throw with Aaren flooded into his quick-acting mind, and instantly he knew how to respond. He struck Tate's punch aside with an outer arm block, and with his other hand he lifted it over his shoulder. Tate knew what Jared was trying to do, but he could already do nothing to prevent it. Jared turned and swept his foot across, striking out Tate's leg. There was nothing more Tate could do to prevent the in-motion attack. For Jared, it felt as if time had slowed. It all seemed so easy now. The motions came naturally to him. All that practice with Aaren had played off after all. Mitchell would not be able to stop him in time, and Tate couldn't free himself. He had him.

Jared pulled Tate over his back, leaned forwards, and let the boy fall. Tate gave a high pitch scream as he fell towards the hard ground. Mitchell had arrived by this point, though his goal was not to harm Jared. Instead his went for his brother, reaching out with his see-through arms. He succeeded in catching Tate, though the force behind the throw still followed through, and brought Mitchell with it. To Jared's surprise, he had managed to topple both of the brothers with that one attack.

Tate lay within Mitchell, his brother's mistral torso dispersing like steam. It took them a moment to stand back up, and in doing so Mitchell's body reformed to its usual shape.

Jared took up a proper fighting stance in preparation for the fight to continue. He put his left leg forwards and stood sideways on to the brothers, left arm extended in preparation to react and right arm pulled back in preparation to counter. The brothers were standing to their feet, shaken and surprised by such a precise counter attack. Tate wiped dust off his shoulders, and tried to give Jared an unimpressed look, though he was clearly still wincing from the pain.

"That didn't hurt at all." He lied blatantly. "You'll have to try a bit harder to keep us down."

Jared gave him a questioning look. It seemed hypocritical of Tate to make such a statement, since five seconds earlier he had been screaming at the top of his voice in sheer panic.

"Oh shut up already." Jared muttered. "You're not witty and you're not cool. Just stop talking and fight me like a man…" he paused to narrow his eyes. "…or run away like a coward."

Tate glared back. That remark had lit a fire of determination in his eyes.

"Looks like we'll have to go with Plan B." He muttered, turning to his brother.

Mitchell grinned at him. "Alright." He exclaimed in excitement. "I like Plan B!"

The both of them stood up, and with quick steps, they walked away from one another, stretching their umbilical cord as far as it would go. Once it was tort and fully extended, they began to circle Jared, with the cord passing through him like intangible rope.

Jared knew what they were trying to do the moment he saw them separate. They wanted to avert his attention, to create an opening in which to attack him. The trouble was that Jared had no way of preventing this. He was surprised that it had taken this long for the both of them to try this sort of strategy. He raised his arms in defence, as the two brothers walking around him like lions surrounding their prey. He couldn't keep his eyes on both of them at the same time, so he would have to pick which was more worth his attention. He turned to focus his gaze upon Tate, the only one of the two he could actually hurt. The moment he did so, he was shoved from behind by Mitchell.

Jared fell forwards, but he recovered quickly and rolled back onto his feet. As he looked up, he saw Tate running towards him. He successfully blocked Tate's punch with his raised arms, but didn't see Mitchell's kick until it was too late. His foot passed through his arms and struck him in the side of head, knocking him flat.

So the twins were not going to give him a chance to think, he realised. They were trying to distract him, to make him choose between them and loose focus. In order to fight, he would have to turn his back to one of them, and in doing so he left it open to the other. They were taking full advantage of this strategy, and had not waited a second before rushing in for the kill.

As he pushed himself up, he saw the two boys circling him again, preparing to perform the same strategy. Trying to attack one of them would do no good, and focusing his attention on one would leave him open to attacks from the other. There would be no easy way around this situation. The both of them had him pinned. Somehow he would have to find a way to keep the both of them in front of him. In a split second Jared came up with a vague and desperate plan. He already knew that part of it would work, but the other part, which involved the strategy which the Andersons were applying, might easily backfire upon him and leave him in a worse situation. Nevertheless, in order to win he would have to attempt it.

He turned to Mitchell, and in a split second he made a decision to run.

The ghostly boy laughed. "That won't do you any good!" He bellowed, and readied to grab Jared as he went to attack.

However, Jared's plan was not to punch him. As he reached Mitchell, he leaned back and skinned underneath his reaching arms. Just like his previous attempt, he passed through Mitchell's lower body effortlessly, leaving the twin to look down in shock. So it seemed that Mitchell could not solidify his entire body, not permanently at least. He could solidify his hands, but it appeared that his torso was forever ethereal in texture. This was a massive weakness which Jared could now exploit as he wished. What had once seemed like an unbeatable foe was now just the shadow of a boy.

Mitchell reacted much quicker this time around. As Jared was standing up again, he had turned and grabbed him from behind. He held onto Jared's arms and tried to pull them up. Jared struggled, and by fortune he managed to slip through Mitchell's grasp.

"I had him!" Mitchell exclaimed in annoyance, as the opponent escaped his grip. He lashed out with a hand, but barely scraped a finger upon Jared's sleeve.

"After him." Tate shouted. The two brothers gave chase, catching up with surprising speed towards their target.

This was what Jared had wanted. Though the execution had been sloppy, he now had both of the brothers in front of him, where he could see them. Tate was attacking again, ahead of his brother by a few feet. Jared raised his hands up to block the incoming punch. At least Tate was physical, and could be blocked with ease.

Then Tate did something he hadn't expected. He swung his punch, and purposefully missed, stopping only a few inches away from his target. As he looked up at Jared, he gave him a cheeky grin. And then Mitchell appeared, passing through Tate like a shadow. He was also swinging a punch. Jared, in shock, held his arms out in front of his face, but it was useless against Mitchell. His hand went through Jared's arms harmlessly and struck him hard upon the nose.

Jared felt the bone and cartilage snap out of place. Amongst the sharp and sudden pain he felt a gush of blood seeping through his nostrils. He could taste the metal tang as it reached his lips. This was not the first time Jared had tasted his own blood before, but never from his own nose. He wiped his lips, and brushed his sore nose. It sparked a short burst of pain. The organ felt out of place, awkward and uncomfortable like a misspelled word. He couldn't smell anything but the metal tang of his own blood.

Jared had stumbled backwards after that punch, catching himself after a moment. He looked back at Tate and Mitchell, who had their hands folded in pride and confidence. Their little plan had worked well, and they could see its results upon Jared's face. Both boys now had bleeding noses, though it seemed that Jared's was in a much worse state. At least Tate's was still in line.

"Oh wow, we really screwed up your face!" Tate said with a short snort of laughter. "Well there goes your chance with any girls. Not even a mother could love that face."

Jared had never told Tate that his mother was dead. He had not wanted to. The boy was loud, arrogant, annoying and stupid. Jared wanted nothing to do with him, and was only fighting him now because they were in an exam. But this one comment, which may have seemed pathetically inflammatory to anyone else, was enraging to Jared. Without realising it, Tate had inadvertently snapped Jared's psyche back to a point in time when he had grieved. Of all the mistakes he had made in this fight, this was his worst.

"Fuck you!" Jared muttered under his breath.

Tate had clearly heard him, but instead of responding like a sensible person, he chose to mock Jared further, and hold a hand up to his ear. "Sorry, I didn't hear that, you have to speak up."

Jared clenched his fists. The muscles in his legs tenses, and he stood upon them in preparation to run. He glared at Tate, teeth gritted with fury. "I said… _Fuck… You!_ "

The words echoed around the massive metal room, as if they were being repeated by a watching crowd. The arena fell silent again after a few seconds, leaving the three boys to look at each other. Tate seemed a little shocked by Jared's reaction, though he quickly reverted back to his usual cocky, mocking and overconfident expression.

"Looks like I touched a nerve." He said to his brother.

"Well, we did break his nose." Mitchell said in agreement.

The both of them turned back to Jared, and in unison they cracked their knuckles.

"What say we finish this already?" Tate asked.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Mitchell responded.

The both of them ran at Jared as they had done moments before, only this time Mitchell was at the front, preparing to attack.

Jared was no longer thinking straight. The only thing he could think of was how much he hated Tate. He stood there, glaring at them, as Mitchell attacked… and passed straight through him. Jared had been expecting them to try the same tactic again, though he had not quite been expecting Mitchell to be the one to feign. As the ghostly brother ran through Jared, Tate followed up with an actual punch a second later, aimed again for Jared's face.

It was then that Jared finally reacted. He blocked him with a swift movement of his hand, and with a sharp jab of the right he punched Tate in the chin. The boy stumbled backwards, stunned. From behind Jared could hear Mitchell swinging to attack. Jared dodged his head aside, and the punch instead struck Tate, hitting him in the throat. He let out a painful cough, and gasped for air.

"Mitch…!" He exclaimed in surprise. "Gah! Wha…?!"

Mitchell blinked and covered his mouth in shock. "Oh crap!" He exclaimed, embarrassed "Sorry, Tate."

Jared turned t Mitchell, and caught his attention again. The twin attempted to kick Jared, but he stepped aside and walked around the boy in the way that they had done to him. As Tate was recovering, Jared made the smart move to lead Mitchell away. He turned and ran, and Mitchell followed after him.

"Come back here, you bastard!" He yelled.

It didn't take long for them to pass the length of the cord connecting the twins, and the moment they reached a distance of around five metres, the rope became tort and yanked Tate backwards. It dragged him for a few feet, before his screams caught Mitchell's attention, and his came to a halt.

"Stop moving!" Tate bellowed, gripping the tight rope leading from his bellybutton. "For god's sake, stop it!"

While they were both distracted, Jared ran back across the room, headed for Tate. He was seeing in red now, though he was not sure if that was because of the blood, which was still dribbling from his nose. Tate was already back to his feet by the time he reached him, and in defence he swung out with a punch. Jared avoided it with ease, and landed a hard strike to Tate's ribs. He buckled, and Jared kicked him sharply in the knees while he was down.

"You prick!" Tate winced in pain.

He rose to his feet, and turned upon his opponent, swinging a hook punch towards his face. Jared calmly held his arm up, and caught Tate's punch mid swing. The motion caused a lot of force against his hand, and pushed it back a few inches, but when the motion stopped Jared still had his opponent's fist gripped between his fingers. Tate stared at him, that same fear as before now rising on his face.

Before he could react, Jared yanked his hand and twisted it, forcing his arm to turn in a way it should not have. Tate yelled. He tried to grab his arm and free it with his other hand, but Jared grabbed that hand and twisted it as well. In desperation, Tate attempted to kick Jared between the legs, but Jared was not stupid enough to leave himself open. He stepped back and twisted his arms across each other, forcing Tate to buckle. With a sharp kick, Jared struck out Tate's feet and threw him to the ground, where he pinned him down with his knee. Tate was screaming during all of this, like a terrified child.

"Tate!" Mitchell yelled, as he realised what was happening.

Jared had twisted Tate's arms behind his back like a police officer arresting a dangerous miscreant. But Jared was taking it way too far. He had pulled Tate's arms back into an uncomfortable position, twisting it further than it could go. Tate's screams became sharper, as his shoulder joints were pulled from place.

It was fortunate that Mitchell arrived to stop him, else Jared may have succeeded in dislocating Tate's arms. He grabbed Jared around the waist and pulled him away. Jared kicked and lashed out, but he couldn't break free from the brother. Mitchell pulled him backwards, away from his injured sibling. In Jared's eyes Mitchell could see feral rage. They looked at Mitchell, who was terrified by what he saw. Nobody had even seen this side of Jared before. Not even Jared had seen it. This was a sort of anger which he had never experienced.

Tate was slowly pushing himself to his feet, his arms weak and aching, hanging at his sides. He looked at Jared with the remaining horror and shock of his attack. It took a few moments for his usual mischievous grin to reset itself, though the terror he had just experienced had not quite washed away.

"That… was not… cool!" He muttered in exhaustion. Jared glared back, still trying to break free from Mitchell's grip. He didn't care that Tate had been hurt. All he wanted was to punch him. Tate sniffed and approached him, pointing a finger. "We'll see how you like being held down, shall we?"

Without a word, Mitchell held Jared forwards, his powerful hands still gripping the arms of his target. Jared had no time to fight back before the first punch came in. It struck him in the gut, knocking the wind from his lungs.

Tate retracted his arm, a look of glee on his face. "Not very fun, is it?" He mocked, and punched again, this time striking Jared's cheek with a hook punch. Blood flew from his face, his broken nose leaking profusely. He coughed as the liquid seeped into his mouth. Tate punched again, and struck him in the ribs. Jared felt the bruising grow sharper. All this time he was still trying to struggle, but could not break free from Mitchell's hold.

"Stop playing around and finish him off already." Mitchell muttered, his vulgar personality now replaced by one of acute concern. Tate however did not share this worry. In his mind, his opponent was defenceless and already defeated. Now he was making sure he stayed down, while also exacting some petty revenge in the process.

Jared couldn't fight against them anymore. He had been trying so hard to win this fight, but with each punch he had been steadily growing more exhausted. Now these attacks were coming in a flurry. He could feel his consciousness sliding away, as his body averted all its energy to recovering from his injuries. He couldn't let himself give up like this. He had come so far. If he gave up now, he would be letting down everyone who had ever supported him. His Mother, his brother, Ravenhead. He had come to this school to prove that he could be a hero, yet he was about to lose during a combat exam after putting up barely any fight. He was so desperate to win that he would try anything if it gave him a chance. That desperation gave him just enough strength to fight back one more time.

As Tate swung in for his final punch, the attack that would end the fight, Jared pulled back his head. By some divine luck he was able to avoid the attack by a mere half inch. As Tate pulled back, surprised, Jared put all of his strength into his legs and push himself up. Mitchell pulled against him, but Jared had only just enough raw power to fight him off. As he rose, he pulled his head further back, and with all the force he could muster he swung it downwards. His forehead struck Tate in the cranium.

There was the sound of a crack, whether of wind or bone was uncertain. Seconds later Tate was reeling backwards, clutching his head and yelping in pain and shock. Mitchell stared in recoiled surprise, and in that moments Jared struggled once more. He easily broke free of the Quirk and ran after its owner. His head was aching and his vison was dizzy, but he had not yet lost consciousness. Tate was only a few feet from him, and in one swift movement he pulled back his right arm and punched him square in the face.

Tate fell backwards like an overweight punching bag. He collapsed, gripping his face, blood between his fingers. Jared stood over him, gleeful and proud. He had knocked his opponent down. If he could keep him there a few seconds longer he would be announced the winner. He was wobbly with fatigue and sore from the many bruises, but if he could just about manage to stay standing a minute longer he would win.

Yet in his haste Jared had forgotten all about the one major threat of fighting Tate. Unlike the other students, he had a twin.

From behind, Jared was struck by a sharp and accurate punch coming from the fist of the mistral Mitchell Anderson. For a split second everything went black, as if all light in the universe had been snuffed out. He felt nothing but the sharp impact and the sparking pain spreading from it. Then he felt numbness, from his face to his toes. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't see.

When his vision came back he was lying flat upon the ground, with something hard and rubbery pushing into his spine. His vision was blurry, but at a glance backwards he could see what was causing he discomfort. The twins were standing over him, and one of Tate's boots was placed upon his spine. He struck a pose like that of a gallant hero standing over a slain beast.

"And stay down!" He exclaimed, panting and wiping sweat from his brow.

A minute later Jared was helped up onto his feet by Dr Cutter. He could hardly stand, and had to lean upon the doctor in order to walk. He was covered in bruises, with blood still leaking from his broken nose. He had a nasty gash upon his forehead, which might have been caused by the headbutt or by the impact of his fall. His arms were limp, his legs were buckled and his lungs were on fire.

Though his injuries were not the worst thing on his mind at that point. The worst thing were the two sentences he had heard uttered over the speaker just before the doctor had rushed in to recover him. Those words would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Jared is down. The victor of this match is Tate!"


	17. Chapter 15 - The Final Match

**Aaren Whitley**

* * *

The match between Jared Wreath and Tate Anderson had been the most interesting of the fight to watch so far. Unlike those who had gone before, both boys lacked a flashy or boisterous power. Other than Mitchell's ability to move through objects, it had been not much more than a two on one brawl. Yet somehow it had been impressively enjoyable to view them fighting upon the screen. Aaren found that she could not tear her eyes away, not for a moment.

It was a strange sensation to watch a boy who she had helped train take on another opponent in physical combat. She knew that he would end up in this situation, as it was a necessary lecture for their course of study, yet she had not expected this sensation of honour. She had already admitted she admired Jared for his determined efforts, yet she realised now that she also felt a small amount of pride as well. That was strange to her. She had never felt pride in anything before, not even in herself. To her, fighting like this was as normal as breathing. She had been training with her father since she was a child, and could likely take on any of the students in the room in hand-to-hand combat with little trouble. Jared did not have that same amount of experience. So watching him fight and, for a small moment, win, filled her emotion-abstaining heart with a resilient joy. She wondered if her father had felt the same way while he was teaching her.

But as much as she wanted to praise Jared for his efforts and encourage him to keep trying, she couldn't help but acknowledge that he had made one massive mistakes during his fight with Tate. Aaren wasn't sure what had set him off. Maybe it was his broken nose, or maybe it was Tate's comments, but something had riled him into a furious anger. She could see it in his eyes, and hear it in the way he spoke. He was enraged. There was no worse state to be in during a fight. While emotions could provide a fighter with the strength to keep fighting, they could also rob them of the clarity to outwit their opponent. In the case of Jared's rage, it gave him the advantage of landing more effective punches, yet it also robbed him of his coherent thoughts. In a tricky fight such as this one, that rage had been Jared's downfall.

While Aaren couldn't ignore such a fatal blunder, she was impressed by some parts of his performance. The most impressive moment of his attack was when he had shoulder thrown Tate. Aaren was glad to see that her teaching had paid off. Jared had performed the technique like a professional, bringing his opponent down with barely any strain or effort, and had managed to resist his struggled and keep a hold of him.

It had been disheartening to hear the announcement of Tate's victory. She had observed all of Jared's efforts during their fight. He had clearly tried as hard as he could to win, but in the end he had lost his cool and forgotten everything she had tried to teach him. Half of Aaren's brain wanted to scold him for failing so drastically and forgetting their training. The other half of her brain wanted to hug him, and tell him that he had done amazingly well even though he had lost. That half came from the person she admired the most. The same person who Jared reminded her of. She wasn't sure which of the two would be more effected in this scenario. Her father's professional sternness or the kindness of the one she admired. She knew that she couldn't work the both of them together. She had seen both individuals interact in person. It was messy.

Tate had just walked back into the room alongside his Quirk of a brother, while Jared was being assisted by Dr Cutter behind them, his arm around the medic's shoulders. He limped with stiff and painful movements, and up close Aaren could see how bad his injuries were. It appeared that Mitchell had a very powerful punch. Without medical help it might take a few weeks, maybe even a month, for his injuries to fully heal.

"We're going to need to pause the exam for a minute or two…" Aries spoke up as Jared, Doctor Cutter and the Andersons entered the room once more. "…To discuss a few matters."

The teachers turned and huddled together at the other end of the room, talking in hushed voices. Aaren could not hear anything of what they were saying, and they seemed to be behaving extra carefully so that none of the students would hear them. She wondered why they had paused for discussion. Had something about Jared's match concerned them?

The doctor was helping Jared to a seat at the back of the room. Once he was made comfortable and allowed to rest, he then went over and joined the teachers in their discussion. While the students were waiting for the exam to continue, the victorious Anderson twins stood in front of the class, baring heroic poses, and flexed in a confident display of power.

"And that's how we do things!" Tate stated in a more cocky tone than usual. "How impressive was that? I'd like to see anyone else do better."

The class looked at them. From Tate's blatant expression he had been expecting them to cheer and clap for him. He evidently had not been expecting a vast silence, as if all sound had been sucked out of the room. There was not as much as a cough from anyone.

"Don't all cheer at once!" Mitchell muttered, dejected.

"It wasn't especially impressive." Said Philip, who stood with his friends at the back of the crowd. "I mean, sure you won, but you also took several hits. You didn't even look that cool while fighting. You just looked like a tit."

Tate glared at him, which seemed to quieten the spiny boy for a while, but his companions had stronger nerves and were not as intimidated by Tate's gaze.

"Yeah." Agreed George Asher. "I mean, Mitchell did most of the work. If anything, he should be taking all the credit. You barely did anything but stand back and get beaten up once or twice."

Tate was clenching his fists in annoyance, though Mitchell was having a blast beside him. He was laughing at him, grinning mockingly. That only made Tate's blood boil hotter.

"Also, you're a complete pervert!" Stated Lavender Marshall from a few feet away. "Did you really look up Maisie's skirt?"

Tate blushed brighter, though this time with embarrassment.

"In my defence, I forgot you could all hear that!" He admitted, as if this was supposed to advocate his behaviour.

"And that makes it okay?" Asked Melanie with Sarcastic, Scottish fury.

"That's the sort of thing you do when you're four and you don't know better." Added Payton. Now he was the one to receive the weird looks, as most of the class wondered where he got that impression from. He looked away from them awkwardly, and pretended for the rest of the day that had said nothing on the matter.

Tate stood there fuming from the ears. He had wanted to come back to thunderous applause, and instead had received a wave of criticisms and complains. He probably would have made a fuss about it, if he had not been interrupted seconds later by Jason Jones, who raised his hand and pointed a finger at the twins. He accidently sent a blast of air in their direction, which sent Tate's hair flailing. Mitchell was completely unaffected.

"That's one hell of a girly scream you have!" He shouted at them in a taunting voice.

The brothers blinked. "Sorry?" They asked in unison.

Jason's eyes widened with glee. He had baited them and caught them upon his hook. How he would only have to reel them in. "Not very heroic of you, is it. I can't think of many heroes that scream like a little bitch when faced with peril."

Tate's cheeks flushed red. "I did not scream like a little bitch!" He snapped back. "He took me by surprise!"

"Yeah, and I bet you enjoy being taken from behind by surprise!" Jason retorted with sharp and precise timing. A few of the students laughed. Tate already looked humiliated, but this was not enough for Jason. He was prepared to go much further. "I guess you're not so masculine after all." Jason continued, a wry grin upon his face. "No man should sound like that. Either you're a girl in disguise, or you've got no balls!" Jason laughed maliciously, as a joke entered his mind. "I think I'll call you that from now on! No Balls!"

Tate's wide eyes had become bloodshot from anger. A few voices began to mutter and chuckle amongst the class. Mutterings of _No Balls_ passed from student to student in chuckled whispers. Even Mitchell was laughing at him, which probably hurt Tate the most.

"You know, I've seen the evidence for myself…" Mitchell announced with a loud, snorting laugh. "And guess what… it's true!"

Tate threw himself at Mitchell, attempting to strangle his brother. Only seconds later did he remember that his brother was an apparition and not a solid being, and he fell straight through him. This only caused more laughter from the class. Tate stood back up, embarrassed and ashamed.

Aaren could see the look upon Jason's face. He was full of glee and hatred. It seemed he had been looking for a chance to get his revenge upon Tate for the mocking nickname he had placed upon Jason during their first day. The name _Fart Hands_ had stuck around the entire month, slowly driving Jason inside. Now he had sent the attention back towards the attention seeker, with gratifying results.

Tate would have probably tried to insult Jason back after that, if the teachers had not turned their attention back towards the student's seconds later. Tate kept quiet, though he continued to give Jason hateful glares from across the room. Jason only smiled back, knowing he had won their battle of wits.

"Sorry about that." Ravenhead spoke up, rubbing the tip of his beak with a sleeve. "Let's continue with the exam."

The attention of the class was turned back to the teachers, who were preparing to pull out the names for the seventh match. Half the class had been and only the other twelve were left to take part. At the other end of the room Aaren could see Jared leaning back upon a cushioned seat. Doctor Cutter had already worked his Quirk upon him. By placing his hand upon the bruise covering Jared's cheek, Aaren saw it shrinking and returning to a normal pink colour in under a few seconds. She decided she would go straight over to see him after the next names had been called. She wanted to discuss his fight with him, and go over his mistakes, and though she wouldn't openly admit it she also wanted to make sure he was okay.

Aries plunged his hand into the ballot box once more, and pulled from it two new slips of paper. As he unfolded it, Aaren saw the brown haired girl who Jared spent a lot of his time with rushing over to his side. She couldn't quite remember her name. They had never had a chance to talk before. She wondered if now would be a good time to go over and introduce herself properly. The girl seemed a little defensive of him, though. Aaren had seen her glaring at her while she was training with Jared, with an almost jealous gaze. If she did go over to see him, she decided it would also be best to clear the air about their relationship, and clarify that it was purely professional.

As she thought of this, the ram hero opened the newly plucked paper slips and read out the names of the participants for the seventh match. Aaren noticed his brow raise slightly.

"Aaren Whitley and Ty Urban." He read aloud.

Aaren's breath caught in her throat. Of course she should have expected luck to work against her. Just as she was about to do something useful with her time waiting, her name was called out. But there was no point in getting angry about it. This was an exam, and she was expected to fight eventually. At least she was still eager for the chance to show off her martial arts talent in front of the class.

She sighed to herself, and then calmly and confidently she turned and left for the arena. She had hoped, in some small way, that Jared would be encouraging her as she left for her fight. She didn't really speak with anyone else at the academy other than him. Though she did not use the word often, she would have considered him a friend. So when she entered the arena without a cheer or clap or call of encouragement she felt disheartened. She glanced back, but he was not paying attention to her. His head was hanging low, his eyes closed and his expression pitiful. He didn't even seem to notice that her name had been called. As much as this saddened her, she couldn't let it distract her. She had to stay focused upon her fight.

Behind her followed her opponent, the sad boy in the gothic dress. Aaren still couldn't quite figure what that boy was about. There was something to him the seemed so unusual, not just his sense of dress or attitude. Apart from outside appearances and behaviours, he didn't seem especially gothic. He didn't wear any dark eyeliner or white foundation, not even a slight amount of cleanser to cover the pockmarks around his gaunt cheeks. He did, however, have heavy black bags under his eyes, suggesting a massive lack of sleep, though he walked with a long step and a hunch, eyes down at the ground the whole time. He was one of the few students whose Quirk was still a mystery. For this reason, Aaren would have to be extra careful when fighting him. She did not know what he was capable of, and if he turned out to be one of the Type Five students there was a good chance is Quirk, whatever it was, would be very dangerous.

* * *

With the both of them now inside the metal dome, the doors slammed shut behind them. Aaren reached her place upon the right side of the arena in only ten seconds, it took Ty twice as long. Once he had finally arrived at his side of the metal field, the horn blasted and the match was allowed to begin.

Aaren acted immediately and began to circle around Ty. She was choosing to keep her distance at first, watching her opponent's actions with caution, yet prepared to act if she needed to. Ty just stood there, however, his blue eyes piercing through the strands of his hanging fringe, following her movement. Even as she drew closer he stood there, unmoving, unreactive. For a short moment Aaren was stumped. She wasn't sure what to do in this scenario. She had never faced an opponent who behaved this way. Usually, if she was participating in a fight, her opponent would either dive straight in for the kill or take up a defensive stance and look for an open moment to attack. Ty was doing neither. He just stood there, open and defenceless, as if he didn't even knew that he was in the middle of an exam.

After almost a minute of keeping her distance, Aaren realised she had no choice but to push the attack. It appeared that her opponent would not act unless she provoked him, and if she were to continue watching him from a distance then the fight would go on forever. She ran at him, her bare feet slapping the cold flood with loud echoes.

It was only as she was a metre away that Ty raised his head. She caught sight of his blue eyes, gazing into hers. Aaren couldn't tell what emotion was upon his face, but she knew that it was a powerful one, quite possibly a mixture of many. She almost halted upon seeing those blue irises. It had strartled her to see such an unusual, sad expression. But she continued on, her feet pointing upon the metal floor and her right arm reeling back.

It was only as Aaren made her attempt at an attack that Ty decided to move. He dodged back, leaning away from the swing and narrowly avoiding it as her fist sailed above his nose. Aaren realised her mistake, and immediately yanked her hand away, expecting Ty to grab it or strike at it at any moment. But instead of going on the attack, Ty backed away further, taking a series of large bounding steps backwards to gain distance from his opponent. Aaren was not sure what this behaviour was supposed to achieve. He was playing evasive, yet not taking advantage of any openings he had to attack his opponent back. It was starting to anger her. If he had been her student, she would have scolded him for these cowardly actions.

She continued to press her attack, hoping to provoke her opponent into acting. She couldn't rush straight at him without thinking. If he was hiding an especially powerful Quirk then he could easily strike her down as she attacked. If she kept her distance then even if he had a ranged attack she would have a better chance of avoiding it. Yet with every second that passed she found herself waiting for nothing. Ty would not move. Eventually she decided to make an attack, hoping to make some progress in the fight. She swung her leg around in a roundhouse kick, aimed for her opponent's cheek. Yet once again, Ty avoided it, ducking under her leg as it swung over and backing hurriedly away. Aaren was starting to get angry. Why was he not fighting back? Why would he not defend himself?

The fight had been going on for two and a half minutes. Aaren was becoming very bothered by the continuous evasions and cowardice of her opponent. Eventual she gave up her cautious distance and went in for a proper attack. She rushed at Ty, striking at him with a flurry of kicks and punches, each of which Ty avoided with ease. There was only one attack that hit its mark.

As Ty dodged away from a hook punch, Aaren struck out his feet with her right leg, sending him sprawling to the floor. As he fell, he reached out with his left hand, and almost grabbed hold of her leg. She pulled it away just in time, though his index finger lightly scraped across her shin. He then hit the ground hard upon his side, whining. Aaren took a step back, grinning. Finally she had landed an attack and downed her opponent. Ty sat up and looked at her. His eyes quickly darting towards her leg. Aaren hardly noticed this, however. She was just glad to finally have the fight under way. Now she was expecting Ty to try and fight back. She wasn't planning to go easy on him, but she would also allow him the time he needed to fight back. Once he was back on his feet, she would continue with the battle, and strike at him harder and harder until she won.

Then Ty did something she had not been prepared for. With barely a movement from where he sat, he leaned backwards and fell flat upon the ground once more. He folded his arms across his chest and looked up at the ceiling, with a strange expression of tranquillity upon his thin face.

"I surrender." He stated loudly.

Aaren raised her brows, bewildered by this behaviour. She had no reaction, other than to stare confused at the odd boy. Ty's expression was blank and unreadable, but his eyes were sharp and wide, suggesting a lot of thoughts flooding through his mind.

"What are you doing?" Aaren snapped at him, her anger starting to show. "Get up! You have to fight me."

Ty continued to lie there, looking upwards. He didn't even acknowledge her with a response. Aaren considered going over to him and kicking him in the shins, but she would not bring herself to attack him like this. It would not look good for her to take advantage of a surrendering opponent. Why he was surrendering she could not fathom. Her kick had barely hurt him, yet now he seemed completely opposed to the possibility of being struck again.

The sound of microphone feedback blasted for a mere moment, and then a voice echoed across the arena.

"Ty, if you refuse to fight then you will fail the exam." Aries reminded him, in a tone that was unusually concerned for him. Since meeting him, Aaren had never heard the ram hero speak in such a way to one of his students.

Ty still lay there, arms folded and eyes pointed upwards. After a few seconds he closed them and sighed quietly. "I refuse to take part." He announced. "I don't care if I fail the exam. I will not fight her."

There was a pause from both Aaren and the teachers. Then, from the microphone, came the sound of inaudible, muttered discussion. Then the voice of Dubstep, surprised and uncertain, came back across the speakers.

"The victor of this match is Aaren Whitley." He stated, though not as prideful or excited as he had with the previous six matches.

Aaren was shocked by these events. She couldn't quite process it. She had won the fight, yet there had barely been an exchange of punches. Ty had only been grazed, and he had done nothing to her at all. Why would he surrender so easily, knowing that he was being marked for his performance? Did he care so little about becoming a hero? Was he suffering from stage fright, or combat anxiety? Was he scared of being hurt? Aaren couldn't think of any reason he would have to stop. She couldn't reason why the battle had gone this way.

Their match had affected her in one significant way, however. She had entered that arena feeling confident and excited. She had left it feeling angry.

* * *

"Looks like there's someone in our class even more pathetic than Quirkless then." Jason muttered cruelly as the two fighters of Match Seven returned to the waiting room. Aaren was steaming from the ears by then, and could not care for the statements of a boy like Jason Jones. His mocking seemed to be aimed at Ty, however, as his brown eyes were fixed upon the black drabbed and sad looking young man.

Her eyes turned towards Jared, who was sat at the back of the room. His bruises were already healing up, even though it had been barely three minutes since his fight. He had evidently heard Jason's comment, and by the look upon his face it was not the first one he had made.

"What a strange fight." George muttered from beside him. "Wasn't expecting it to end that quickly." He turned his attention to Aaren, who was not at all pleased to have it. "Hey, I imagine you're pretty annoyed about that, aren't you."

"Furious." She muttered without a second thought. From the corner of her eye she could see Ty's head droop.

George chuckled. "Nice to see the girls around here have a lot of spunk." He grinned to his friends.

From the edge of the class Tate and Mitchell let out a quiet yet obvious chuckle. "Well… that's one way to put it." Tate whispered to his brother, loud enough for the other students to hear him. No one seemed at all impressed by their childish interpretation of a multiple meaning word such as _spunk_. In fact a few of the girls groaned at him. The only person to laugh at the joke was Rylie, and nobody was quite sure why.

Uninterested by the idiocy of her male classmates, Aaren turned away and focused her attention upon Jared again. Maisie was sat beside him, fussing over him like a doting mother. She still wanted to make sure he was okay, but she hadn't been expecting to leave her fight feeling so angry. Maybe now was not the best time to have a long, critical discussion with him. Nevertheless, she walked over, still angry, with her bare arms folded across her skinny stomach.

"Utter bullshit!" She groaned a complaint as she took the seat besides Maisie. "Little rat bastard ended the fight before it got a chance to begin."

Maisie nodded, evidently unsure what response to give this girl who she had never spoken to before. It took her a moment to realise the statement had been aimed towards Jared. He didn't respond, except to hum quietly in a sort of careless agreement.

"At least you won your fight." Maisie told Aaren after a moment of silence.

Aaren scoffed. "It didn't feel like a victory." She grumbled.

The silence proceeded, as the three of them sat at the back of that room, while before them the other students chatted and argued, and the teachers discussed and prepared the next match.

"Your fight with Tate…" Aaren began, her eyes facing forwards. "It wasn't bad… actually, I was really impressed with some parts… but you let yourself lose control towards the end. I would suggest in future that you…"

She turned, and saw properly just how Jared was dealing with his experience. The young, Quirkless boy had his head in his hands, his fingers gripping at his hair and his bloodshot eyes glaring widely through the cracks between his knuckles. His mouth was not visible, but she could tell by the movement of his chin that he was chewing his lip. His nose protruded as a lump between the didgets, red dribbling stains sliding down from the nostrils, the ridge still out of line from the injury. It seemed that even Doctor Cutter could not completely reset a broken nose. He barely seemed to be acknowledging her, let alone listening to the words she was saying.

Aaren had not seen Jared look so pitiable. He had gotten annoyed, angry, upset and even a little self-conscious at times during their training, but Aaren had never seen him look this miserable. His lose was clearly getting to him in a way she had not expected. For a moment she wondered if he would even be capable of continuing on the course like this. If losing an exam such as this had caused him such awful despair then how would he cope with the tougher, upcoming tests that were most certainly set up for them.

There was not much she could do to make the situation better. Her talents lied within the areas of martial arts and combat strategy, not within social communication or empathy. She knew she wanted to reassure him, but the only way she knew how was to beat him up and demand he try harder. That was a concept her father had taught her. In order to rebuild someone, you have to break them first. She wasn't sure that would help Jared, certainly not at this moment or with this situation. Maybe the best decision was to simply stay quiet and have patience. Maybe Jared would come around on his own. Maybe all he needed was the company and support of his friends.

So Aaren sat there, beside Maisie and Jared, at the back of the classroom, feeling anger, annoyance, stress, pity and regret.

"Looks like today didn't go well for any of us, did it." Maisie said, placing a caring hand upon Jared's shoulder. He barely seemed to notice her, and could hardly muster the willpower to shake her off.

Aaren nodded in agreement. Currently she was pondering who out of the three of them had been more humiliated by their opponents. Maisie had been struck down by a girl in a wheelchair, Jared had been beaten up by Tate, and Aaren had won because her opponent surrendered. Her trail of thought was sharply broken by Maisie.

"Hey, what happened to your leg?" She asked.

Aaren followed the pointing of her finger down towards her right foot. Upon her shin was a small, oval shaped scab. Aaren looked at it with shock. She was certain that it had not been there before their match. Maybe she had scratched herself during her fight, but if that was the case then how had she managed it? Ty had not fought back at her, and she had not slipped or fallen or scraped her leg. It was also a strange shape for a scab. Usually they would form as a line or jagged square around the damaged skin. They weren't usual small and oval. It was certainly a mystery to her as to where the scab had come from, but she chose not to let it bother her. It could have come from anywhere, and it was more than likely that she had received it on the walk to the exam arena. They had walked through that copse to get there. She might have caught her leg on a bramble and not realised.

As these thoughts were passing through her mind, the teachers began to continue the exam.

"The participants of match eight will be…" Aries announced, as he pulled out another two slips of paper from the ballet box, and unfolded them with careful fingers. "Jason Jones and Catherine Griffiths." He announced

There was an excited muttering from the boys. Jason cracked his knuckles and smiled with excitement.

"Finally." He exclaimed loudly. "Took long enough."

"She doesn't stand a chance against you, JJ." Philip encouraged, folding his arms with a false confidence.

Jason grinned at his friends. "This will be fun." He said with a delighted yet worryingly malicious grin.

From nearby came a scoff, and Jason turned to see the Anderson twins grinning smugly at him. "Yeah, it'll be really funny to see you get beaten by a girl." Tate told him.

Jason's eyes narrowed, and his pupils enlarged like an eclipse. "This coming from the guy who nearly lost to a Quirkless boy!" He retorted.

To her right Aaren noticed Jared flinch as Jason said that word. He said it with such unearned contempt. Though Aaren had no reason to get involved with the fight, she felt angry for Jared. It was not right that Jason use his lack of a Quirk as a weapon against him. She wanted him to stand up and walk over to the over-confident bastard and punch him in the teeth. But Jared wouldn't do that. He didn't stand up for himself when others verbally attacked him. Aaren couldn't fathom why. Getting aggressive had always worked for her.

Tate didn't seem at all angered by Jason's retort, and continued to mock the more muscular and athletic boy with the more powerful Quirk. "I bet you won't even land a single hit on her." He said confidently.

It seemed that Tate either had a gambling problem or a death wish. Jason gritted his teeth in annoyance. "Oh yeah? How much do you bet that?"

"Ten Pounds." Mitchell blurted out, before Tate even had the time to consider an answer.

Jason folded his arms. "Well, I bet you _twenty_ pounds that not only will I land the hit but I'll win the fight within thirst seconds!" He stated, shoving a finger at Tate's chest.

"You probably don't even have that much money." Tate mocked.

"It's more money than you'll make in your entire life!" Jason snapped back. "You could probably sell your house and not make that much money!"

"Boys!" Stated the reprimanding voice of Silver Streak. The two teenagers looked at him, stood several metres away in the shadowed end of the room, his blue eyes piercing the darkness like sapphires within an unlit mine. They shuddered under his gaze and turned their attention back at each other, now speaking quieter and with more restraint.

"Twenty pounds is probably as much as your mum makes in a month." Tate stated under his breath. "I wouldn't expect her to get much service, either. After all, prostitution's illegal in England."

"Ignore him, Jason." Philip said, attempting to pull his friend away. It was fortunate that he intervened. Jason looked ready to punch someone. He eventually shook his friend off and turned for the door.

"Yeah, that's right, walk away you pussy!" Mitchell shouted as he reached the door.

Jason stopped, but he didn't respond. He clenched his fist, evidently considering retaliation, but instead continued walking and entered the room.

From the large screen the class could see everything. The girl, Catherine, had already entered before her opponent, looking very scared and nervous. She was the girl who Aaren had seen constantly wearing that thick winter coat. She had still chosen not to take it off, even now. She had to be boiling within all that cloth and fur.

She took a place upon the left side of the arena, while Jason went to the right. Jason was very clearly eager to get started. He had been fidgety and impatient the whole day, and now, after watching seven other fights and throwing insults back and forth with Tate, he had a chance to test his mettle. Considering his eagerness, it was likely that the class would get one hell of a show from him. It was not likely that the fight would last long. Unless his opponent had something hidden up her thick sleeves, it seemed that Jason was certain to win from the offset.

The door had barely closed before he started moving. Jason began to hop from foot to foot, breathing deeply in and out, stretching his arms and legs, preparing the muscles to release his signature blast. A second later the horn was sounded.

Jason was half way through his preparation to jump, before the coat arm of his opponent shot up. He paused and looked at her, surprised. She stared back at him with fearful eyes, and then turned towards the doors.

"I surrender." She shouted.

Jason's jaw dropped. "What?" He shouted back, bewildered.

The girl looked at him with fear, but said nothing more. She continued to stand there with her arm held up.

Aaren's attention turned from the screen to her teachers. Another discussion had begun, specifically between Aries, Dubstep and Silver Streak. She wondered if this had happened when Ty had surrendered to her. If so, it explained why there was a pause before ending the match.

"Another?" Silver Streak groaned in surprise. He turned with annoyance to his colleague. "Kameron, the both of your students have refused to take part in the exam? What's going on here?"

"I suspect they are nervous." Aries said, responding calmly to the ire of his co-worker. "We should have expected this. Some students are less prepared for this exam than others."

"That is not much of an excuse. This exam is about giving our students a chance to prove themselves. If they won't fight then they're only failing themselves."

"That may be the truth, but it is still their choice. If they refuse to fight, the do so knowing that it will not benefit them."

"Those two were both initiated by you." Silver Streak reminded him, shoving a sharp nailed finger into Aries' chest. "Therefor they are your responsibility. What are you teaching them if they have such pathetically flimsy backbones? Have you been picking weakling students on purpose?"

There was a hushed whisper from Ravenhead, who leaned in to their ears while keeping his eyes focused upon the curious class watching them. Aaren could not hear what he had said, but whatever it was, it ended the discussion.

Aries turned to Dubstep, and gave him a slow nod. "Go ahead and end the match." He told him.

Dubstep looked between the three of them, and placed his finger upon the horn button, and spoke into the microphone. "The victor of this match is Jason Jones." He stated, sounding confused and surprised by what was going on.

At first it seemed as if the issue was resolved. The teachers had done their talking over the subject, and the match had been brought to an end. There should have been nothing else to come from this. However, Aaren had forgotten that one of the students taking part in the current match was Jason Jones.

She watch the next scene of events occur, unable to affect any of it. While the teachers had been discussing the matter, they had forgotten about the two students still in the arena. Neither of them had moved, even though the fight was officially over. And then the announcement had been made. Jason was proclaimed as the winner, without landing a single hit upon his opponent.

However, this was not enough for Jason Jones. He had been putting up with all sorts of annoyances today, including the two Anderson twins, and it seemed that this was the last he could take.

He glared at his opponent, his face ablaze with unbridled fury. The unfortunate Catherine was cowering under his furious gaze, scared to her core.

"Is this a Joke?" He demanded, clenching his teeth in rage and screaming at the door. "You can't just end the match like that! I didn't even get a chance to fight!"

He stood there for a few seconds, but no response came from his teachers or fellow students. Now turned back towards Catherine, turning his fury upon his hapless opponent

"You cowardly little bitch!" He muttered.

Aaren couldn't believe what she witnessed next. Nobody had been expecting Jason to snap like this, but his next actions took the matter too far very quickly.

Jason leaned forwards and squatted low to the ground, tightening his leg muscles. And then, with a sudden release, he was sent flying upwards by a massive blast of air. There was little time for anyone to react as he shot upwards, propelled by his Air Cannon Quirk. He shot forwards in an arcing trajectory, until he eventually reached the roof of the dome. Then, placing a hand upon the metal, he altered his direction of descent and dived downwards in a kicking motion towards his petrified opponent. During the whole of this performance he was screaming like a madman. Catherine would probably be having nightmares for weeks after.

The sound of the massive blast was enough to catch the attention of the teachers. Within seconds, Silver Streak had flung the doors open and sprinted out onto the metal field. The flooring underneath him raised up, pushing him forward faster than running alone could make him go. His hand was gripping one of the chains dangling from his jacked. As he watched the boy descend, he lashed out with that chain and threw it towards the area where Jason would soon reach. As it sailed upwards, the chain links snapped and fused together as if they were made of liquid, extending the chain's length to twice as long. It caught Jason as he was only a few metres away from making impact, and wrapped tightly around his chest, remaining tort and stable as it extended across the field.

Catherine was cowering underneath the shadow of her opponent, while Jason was hanging in mid-air, chained up and struggling with fury. He was babbling incoherently, practically frothing at the mouth. With the rabid boy now restrained, Silver Streak hauled the chain slowly in. Even with his fingers barely touching the metal, the chain remained straight, holding Jason a complete metre above the floor.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, turning his attention to Catherine. She looked back at him with wide eyes, and after overcoming the initial shock she nodded.

Silver Streak now turned his attention back to Jason. He said nothing to say the boy, who was struggling desperately within the binds of his metal chain, still screaming. A small piece of metal slid across his face and covered his mouth, quietening him, though his muffled yells and grunts were still audible.

"I think you need some time out." Silver Streak told him, as he dragged him back across the arena and into the waiting room. He passed the watching and amused students, who all looked at Jason with shock, and some – such as Tate and Mitchell – with humour. He dragged Jason across the floor with his silver leash and took him outside. Silver Streak returned a minute later without him. Upon leaving the academy that night, Aaren saw Jason still bound in metal outside the building, still screaming under his mouth cover.

"Jesus!" Muttered Jon.

"Christ!" Muttered John.

"That guy has some issues." Whispered Jean.

"I've never seen him snap like that before." George muttered.

"It looked like he was going to kill her!" Said Lavender in shock.

They all stood in silence. Then, like an awkward breaking of wind, Tate said "Looks I like I won my bet. He owes me twenty pounds now."

Now that Silver Streak had dealt with the aggressive students, and the entire class – bar Jason – were in the waiting room once more, Ravenhead smiled at them all awkwardly and gave a small speech.

"Sorry about that, everyone. We weren't quite expecting a scenario like this. Hopefully this won't ruin the rest of the exam. Without any more interruptions, let's move on to match number nine."

* * *

The rest of the exam went by in a sort of greyscale blur. It wasn't exactly a quickly passing experience, as a couple of the remaining fights lasted a while. The main reason it felt like a blur to Aaren was because she had no interest or stakes in the few remaining students.

There were only eight more students within Class Junior left to go through the exam. This meant that there would be four more matches before the exam ended. Most of them were dull and boring… except for one.

The ninth match set Jon Laverick and George Asher against each other. Though Jon put up a good fight, the hindering weight of his feet inevitably came at a disadvantage and left him open to plentiful attacks. Eventually he chose to give up after taking an especially hot globule of flaming saliva to the cheek.

Match ten saw two of the more forgettable students fighting each other. Billie Reynolds and Lu Xiong. The both of them had very strange and unusual Quirks. Billie could turn herself to stone, surrounding her body with a hard rock cocoon. Lu could emit X-Radiation waves from his body, and if focused through his eyes he could use it to see through most materials. The fight between the two of them was long and slow. Billie spent most of it hiding within her stone cocoon, while Lu tried to break through it with his bare hands. While he could use his Quirk to see through the rock, he couldn't use it to attack her. Eventually the match was ended by Dubstep, after lasting almost fifteen minutes and going nowhere. Billie was announced the winner, as Lu had been completely unable to harm her, yet he had scratched and scarred his knuckles in his attempts.

The eleventh match saw one of the most interesting student combinations. Barbara Faraday, the blond haired girl who Aaren had seen at in Self-Defence classes, would be up against Jean Templin, the boy with the French accent. As the class had come to discover, Barbara's Quirk, which she called _Lightning Rod_ , gave her a metallic spine, which conducted electricity produced within her body and provided from outside sources and stored it for later use. With this ability, she could both collect and expel static electricity whenever she wanted. Against any other student her Quirk would have been impressively powerful, however she had been unfortunate in fighting the one student who would be completely unaffected by her Quirk. Jean's _Rubber_ Quirk made it so that his skin had the same properties as rubber, even its ability to insulate electricity. Against Jean Templin, Barbara's lightening rod was useless. She had no choice but to fight without her Quirk. Jean did not make this easy for her, however, as he proceeded to leap away upon his bare feet and bounce high up into the air. He sprang across the entire arena, continuously avoiding Barbara's attempts to fight him, until eventually she grew tired and gave up. Jean was announced as the winner.

The last of the Class Junior Matches had arrived, and there were only two students left to take part. One of them was Olivia Fenn, a girl with one of the more unusual Quirks. There weren't many students in their class who looked especially different from a normal human, but Olivia was one of those few. She had dark black, freckled skin, like that of a sunflower, and a set of fluffy, circular hair extended from the sides of her head. Her Quirk was called _Photosynthesis,_ and as one would expect it had the exact same meaning for her as it did for a flower. Her skin cells collected light energy while she stood in direct sunlight, which her body converted into food and oxygen. It gave her a great boost of adrenaline, making her the fastest student in the class, with Jason only just coming second. As well as this, she could apparently use this energy to heal her wounds and those of anyone in contact with her, though that part was something she was still trying to get the hang of. She could also expel that light energy as heat, creating a small scorching wave should she need to defend herself. Her Quirk made her sound rather impressive in concept. It was unfortunate that it made her look like a triffid.

Her opponent was the only other student remaining. Niall Archer, the purple haired boy who sat next to Maisie in the classroom. She and Jared recognised him as he entered the arena. He was one of the few students remaining who they did not know the Quirk of.

The both of them stood opposite one another upon the metal field, and as the horn sounded to start the fight the both of them went in for the attack. Olivia had a clear advantage over Niall. He was thin and scrawny, while she was tall and full of energy, which she had collected on the walk to the exam building. She could outrun him, outmanoeuvre him, overpower him, out-Quirk him. In just a few seconds she had managed to run laps around him.

With a strong punch, she knocked Niall flat in barely a moment. It seemed that the fight was already decided, as Niall struggled to get back to his feet. Olivia was decent enough to let him stand again without kicking him while he was down.

Up until this point Niall had been fighting without the assistance of his Quirk. However, for whatever reason, this was the moment where he decided to use it, while observed by the entire class. Olivia was already making a new attack, and she was barely seconds away.

He stood up straight, raised his head, and in a loud voice he stated at his opponent "Stop!"

And, to the surprise of everyone watching, Olivia stopped.

It seemed that even she did not know why she had paused in place, as she looked at her feet in confusion. From her expression it could be seen that she wanted to move forwards, yet for an unknown reason she could not will her legs into doing so. She looked up at Niall, and saw his stern, narrow eyed expression. Somehow he was doing this. Though she couldn't figure out how, Niall was responsible for what was happening to her.

Niall began to approach, walking slowly towards her. Olivia was struggling against her own body, trying to pull her legs free from this strange spell they were under, but no matter what she tried she could not move. She was stuck to that spot as if with glue. As Niall got closer she grew more frantic, pulling at her trouser legs as hard as she could, hoping to move her foot by at least an inch, but it did no good. Her legs were as solid as stone.

Niall was barely a metre away when he spoke again. Olivia was glaring at him, and preparing to utilize her Quirk to unleash a wave of heat. Her skin was beginning to glow with a green tint, and her hair was shivering wildly. Niall's next statement changed the course of the fight completely.

"Do not activate your Quirk!"

The green aura that had been building up around Olivia suddenly faded away, vanishing in the blink of an eye. Her hair grew still, ragged from the quick movements. She looked at herself, bewildered, no idea as to what was happening. Whatever Niall said, she did, and she had no idea why. She looked at him, and in desperation lunged out with a swinging punch. It missed Niall by several inches, and he looked at her with a pitiful expression.

"Lie down flat!" He instructed.

Olivia lowered herself onto the ground and lay flat upon the cold metal floor, arms up above her head and legs stretched. She looked up at Niall in utter bewilderment, unable to move, unable to fight back.

Niall turned away from her, towards the doorway where the class were watching him. With his expression now falling back to his usual disinterested gaze, he opened his mouth and asked "Is the exam over yet?"

Only moments later did the teachers confirm his question? Dubstep leaned in towards his microphone, and with the excited voice of a childish adult, he stated clearly "The victor of the match is Niall!"

And that was the end of the Combat Exam.

Needless to say, it had been an anticlimactic end to an overall dull experience. Most of the fights had been short and uninteresting. There was a little entertainment to be had in some moments, and some fights had more entertaining set ups and results, but the majority of the fights were other in a minute, and usually had very little fighting at all.

The class were giving Niall as much space as they could when he returned from his match. He could tell why. Even Aaren found that she was a little more cautious around him. Now everyone had a good idea as to what his Quirk did, but none of them were quite sure as to what set it off. They all decided to play safe, and avoid talking to him at all, even if their life was at risk if they didn't. Nobody was especially keen upon the idea of being controlled by another person, like a puppet on strings.

With all of the matches now over, and each students having partaken in one, the teachers called it a day and let them all go home. There was a moment of consideration as to whether Aaren and Jason should be allowed a second fight due to their opponent's refusal to fight. This was quickly shot down by Silver Streak, who had no plan to let Jason Jones lose upon another student again. There had been a mention that the senior students would be taking their exam tomorrow, as they needed time to fix up the arena in preparations for their fights. The junior students were allowed to come along and watch if they wanted to, but otherwise they would have the day off, no lectures, no PE lessons and no homework.

Ravenhead congratulated everyone for taking part, and reminded them that losing the fight did not mean failing the exam. This reminded did not cheer many of the students up, however. Those who had lost, or had won without feeling they had earned it, found that their failures were still poignant days later. The most affected of all these students was Jared. Though Jason was still frothing with rage, and Maisie was still disappointed, Jared left that day with his head hanging low, his eyes towards the floor. Compared to the other students around him, Jared was the most miserable of the lot.

Aaren considered trying to cheer him up, but that was not the sort of person she was capable of being. She was not like Tate. She couldn't just throw on a funny mask and try to make people laugh. She took things to seriously, too literally for that. Her idea of help would not be _help_ to Jared, certainly not right now. She decided that the best thing she could do for him at the moment was give him space and time. That usually helped any child of Galafrei. In a weeks' time he would have probably gotten over it all, and he would be back to his eager, determined self.

Aaren was hardly the sort of person to assume that, however. She was still enraged at Ty, and judging by her current mood, that anger would not fade for a while.

* * *

 **Sorry about the longer wait. Had a struggle with this chapter. Rewrote a lot of it, so this is pretty much a second draft of the original attempts. Hope it reads better because of the changes.**

 **So that was the end of the Combat Exam. I know it's not especially long, but I didn't want this to be some massive event. This is basically just a test or mock exam in preparation for the real work.**

 **As usual, if you spot any mistakes, inconsistencies or poorly worded sentences, point them out!**


	18. Chapter 16 - A Reminder

**Jared Wreath**

* * *

The Combat exam had cast its spell upon all of the students of Class Junior. Not one of them had left after that day unchanged in some way. Some of them had changed for the better, while others…

Jared was quiet for the week that followed. He barely spoke, refusing to partake in lesson and sitting lonely at the back of the classroom. He was not the only person behaving this way, but out of everyone he seemed the most miserable.

Coming to class the next morning had been tough. He had gone home that night to the hopeful expectations of his siblings, only to disappoint them with the news that he had lost his fight. As if that wasn't bad enough, his father had found about the exam. Jared had tried to hide it from him, yet it seemed that such a task was futile. He should have assumed that the number one hero in Britain would also be a capable detective. He had given Jared the same reaction he always gave him upon hearing of his failed endeavours. He had just stood there, looking disappointed.

Jared would never get used to that look. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he would always fail, and he would always come home to see that face. It never changed, just as the Progenitor never changed, just as Jared never changed. Each and every time, that face portrayed the very feelings within Jared's heart, only now they were upon the face of his one living parent. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he could not. It destroyed him. But this time it had been a little different. Unlike the many other times he had failed and been faced with disappointment, he had been at the bottom of the ladder, still trying to climb the first step. But now he had made it a few steps up, actually managing to reached the goal he had set himself for so many years, and beginning to climb as high as he could, as fast as he could. And then he had screwed up, and let go of the ladder, falling all the way back down to the ground to hit the earth harder than he ever had before. He had been gifted a chance, after so long, after desperation and misery had long since devoured any hope in his heart. He had been gifted that hope once more. Now it was snatched away again, as easily as taking candy from a baby and as soul crushing as losing a loved one.

Jared no longer had the strength to cry about it. He had spent all his tears already. He couldn't feel anything for some time after that, neither emotions nor physical stimuli. His body went numb to its surroundings, and his head and heart closed themselves off. The exam had drained so much out of him, and now that he had lost there was nothing left within him. This was the proof he had been waiting to see. Was he capable of becoming a hero?

No…

…No he was not.

* * *

The week had passed, and even as Monday came around once more, Jared's mood had not changed. He still sat there, at the back of the room, head in his hands, paying no attention to the lesson he was in, hearing his friends chatter around him, sometimes nudging him to ask if he was okay, but he never responded. Only when they became concerned and would start to bother him would he turn and say "I'm fine!" in an unnecessarily aggressive and loud tone. They would back away after that, startled but still concerned. They quickly became more hesitant to talk to him.

He wanted to be alone right now, that was the one thing he knew for certain. His friends would be better off without him. He was a leech upon their lives. That was all he had ever been. That was all he ever would be. Ravenhead was wrong about him. His brother was wrong about him. His mother was wrong about him. His father was right about him. He was Quirkless. He could not become a hero. Why was he even at this academy anymore? He couldn't become a hero. What was the point of learning anything in these lessons? What was the point in trying?

Tuesday came around. It was raining outside. Jared could see the droplets falling down the window beside him. As he looked out of the classroom at the gloomy October weather, the class around him was ending. Ravenhead had been further discussing the history Galafrei City and the London wall, but Jared had paid attention to none of it. What use would it be to him? He couldn't become a hero? Why would he need to know this? Not even the swats of Rylie's tail against his desk could distract him from staring thoughtlessly out at the dismal weather.

At least Jared knew he wasn't the only student in class bothered by their results in the exam. Rylie had lost as well, and since her fight she had been much grumpier than usual. Each tail swish was strong enough to swat a fly, and when it struck his table it caused a sharp slap. Meanwhile Jason Jones was still enraged about how his fight had gone, and his desk had been moved to the opposite side of the room, away from the other students. This was supposed to stop him from trying to hurt any of them during class, yet while it did this in part it could not stop him from shooting pieces of paper at Catherine, who was unfortunate enough to be sat only two desks to his left. In between them was Ty, who would often end up catching the paper pieces. He seemed unaffected on the exterior, but it was tough to tell with him. He had never looked happy, so it was tough to know if he was truly upset.

Most of the other class members seemed to have moved on from their strife. Aaren came out of her fight unusually angry, but after a few days that anger had cooled and she had returned to her usual hardened, emotionless attitude. Maisie had at first been upset by her loss, but since then she had shaken it off and even started spending time with Freya. It seemed that the two had become good friends over the course of the week. Jared was happy for her. Maisie was a good person. She deserved good friends. Jon and Payton had both lost their battled, but while the both of them were disappointed at their defeat, neither were hung up on it. Payton had accepted his as bad luck, while Jon had chosen to acknowledge his opponent as the stronger fighter and back down without severe injury. Jared couldn't understand why this didn't bother them more. He had also lost, and he was furious because of it. But unlike them, he had almost won. He had knocked Tate flat. If he had seen Mitchell's attack coming then he could have stayed standing long enough to win via knockdown. But he had made a mistake, and forgotten about his second opponent. Now he was a loser, not just in the eyes of the other students but to himself.

Jared had spent the whole lesson looking out through the window. It would be an awful experience having a PE lesson in this weather. Maybe he could make an excuse to head home early. But then he would have to walk back by himself, so he would still be out in the rain. It seemed there would be no way to escape it. Either way, he was getting soaked. He barely noticed the class standing up and leaving. He felt Maisie's hand touch his shoulder, and her voice asked if he was going to lunch. He didn't respond, and a few seconds later he felt her let go. He sat there, still looking out of the window, watching the sky let lose tears that he could not muster.

"Jared!"

This was the first time that Jared had responded to his name in a week. The shout had been so loud, so full of demand, that it had snapped him out of his thoughts.

Ravenhead was stood at his desk, looking at him with folded arms. The classroom was empty, other than the two of them.

"The lesson has ended. Do you want to miss lunch?"

Jared blinked a few times, before lowering his head and giving no response. He didn't feel hungry. He hadn't felt hungry for days. The most he had eaten were cold leftover scraps.

Ravenhead was still looking at him, making no point of leaving the room before his student. Jared looked up and saw him still standing there through his fringe, arms folded and face cocked to one side. The teacher rubbed his beak together, as if trying to chewing his lip, and unfolded his arms to let them hand at his side.

"You don't seem much like yourself recently." The avian hero said with concern. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine." Jared muttered with the repetitive tone of an automaton. He had gotten so used to saying those two words in his life, they barely meant anything to him anymore. They were just sounds coming from his mouth.

Ravenhead nodded after a few seconds, and then let out a sad sigh.

"I don't think you're being honest with me, Jared." He told him in a kind yet lecturing voice. "I may be the number ten hero in the country, and therefore you may think I don't want to actually speak personally with you… but I am also your teacher. If something is wrong, you can talk to me about it."

Jared didn't want to talk. He had nothing to say. His thoughts were speaking in volumes at a pitch which nobody else could hear. They swamped his mind like a flood through a broken barrier, and drowned out everything else. He doubted he could even form three words before breaking with sorrow.

Then Ravenhead brought to air the very thing Jared wanted to avoid.

"If you're upset because of your performance in the exam…" He began.

Jared's head shot up. "No." He stated quickly. He knew where this conversation would go, and he did not want to talk about it at this moment. He wanted to drown in his misery. It was the only talent he truly had.

Ravenhead was quiet for a moment, but then decided to continue, despite Jared stating otherwise.

" _If_ that is why you're upset then don't be." He stated with a smile. "Just because you lost the match, it does not mean you failed the exam. Like I said at the start, only refusing to take part in the exam will result in failure. The exam was meant to show us teachers how much you know and what you can do. Victory and defeat are irrelevant in the matter. We wanted to see where your talents lie. Actually, if I can be honest with you, I thought you did very well standing up to Tate and Mitchell. It wasn't an easy pairing, but you did a very good job."

Jared was quiet in response. Though he had heard Ravenhead's statement, his mind was not focused upon it. Instead it was developing a question. A question that would clarify the thoughts within Jared's head, and decide if he truly was right about being incapable as a hero.

"What is it you saw in me?" He asked, in a quiet and sad voice.

The room was silent after that. Ravenhead looked at him in surprise. He pondered over the question for some time, which suggested he was not sure what the answer was. Then finally, he closed his eyes and let out a heavy exhalation of air.

"Do you want the honest truth?" He asked.

Jared nodded slowly, with a horrid sinking feeling in his stomach. He probably would not like the answer.

Ravenhead placed a clenched hand to his chin, leaning upon it for support.

"I was curious." He admitted, after a distressingly long wait. "That is the honest truth of it. I have met Quirkless people before. Some of them were saved by me. Some of them are fans of me. Some of them have been to events I sponsored. I've heard the suggestion before, the idea that one of them could someday train to become a hero. Usually they give up on this idea, because they assume it will be too tough. But you were different. You actually put in the effort. You made attempts, and though it was not perfect, you put yourself out there and showed me who you were." Ravenhead rubbed his short chin. "Of all traits in a person's character, I admire determination the most. We need that drive to keep us going. Some people are so quick to give up before they even try, assuming they will never succeed I can't bring myself to support that. You were the first Quirkless person I met who was that determined. I wanted to know if I could manage it. I wanted to help that resolute seed bloom into a heroic flower. I wanted to know if it could be done."

This was not the response that Jared had been expect. He remembered Ravenhead stating that he admired Jared's determination, but he didn't know all these details behind it.

"So making me a student at this academy was a gamble?" Jared repeated in simple words. "You bet that it was possible to make me into a hero, when everyone else was betting against it?"

"While that's technically right, it's not quite as dehumanizing as that." Ravenhead corrected him. "I never saw you as an object, or a tool to shape at my whim. You are a young man, with your own dreams and desires and wants and wishes. I wanted to support you in your attempts to become a hero, no matter how tough it might be."

"Then I'm sorry…" Jared said, sliding his chair back to stand up. "… but you bet wrong. I'm not capable of becoming a hero. I see that now." He looked at Ravenhead, and from the corners of his eyes fell small trickles of tears. "I can't be the person you see in me."

Ravenhead gave him a sad look. "Do you really believe that?" He asked.

Jared nodded, closing his eyes to stifle his tears. There was silence between the two of them for a good while. Eventually Ravenhead unfolded his arms and stepped away from his desk. He approached Jared slowly, looking sorrowful. After sliding carefully between the desks in front of distressed boy, he pulled around Rylie's chair and sat upon it, leaning upon the back with both arms.

"Why do you think this?" He inquired further in a considerate whisper.

Jared sat back and looked away, not wanting to meet his Teacher's eyes. Outside the weather was only growing worse. Rain fell in a torrent from a barricade of black clouds above.

"In the exam last week…" He began to speak, pausing and stuttering with the pain of recalling his troubles. "There was this moment… While I was fighting Tate, he said something to me, and I just… snapped!" He slammed his hand on the table in frustration, but Ravenhead didn't flinch. He continued to look at him with glassy eyes full of empathy. Jared rubbed his hand soothingly, and sniffed once. "If Mitchell hadn't grabbed me, I would have tried to kill him." He said with no hint of exaggeration or sarcasm or humour. The expression he gave Ravenhead was one of serious, horrifying realisation.

Ravenhead only looked back, expressionless, other than concern which he had always shown the boy.

"What did he say?" Ravenhead asked, reeling the conversation back a step.

Jared inhaled. "He said that not even my mother could love me." He explained, exhaling as if his lungs were being compressed by a vice. He rubbed his nose, and with a weak mutter he added "My mother died in a car crash when I was seven. She was the only person who truly believed that I could still become a hero, whether I had a Quirk or not."

Ravenhead didn't react to the words of his students. He continued to listen quietly and intently, letting Jared talk on about everything on his mind.

"I've never gotten that mad before." Jared muttered, more to himself than his teacher. "At anyone. I know I have a rather quick temper, but usually I can handle it. But this time… I don't know… What he said to me… It took me to a place I did not want to go!"

He paused, choking upon falling tears.

"They were right!" Jared muttered in anger. "They were all right! I'm not capable of becoming a hero. I'm not a talented fighter, I can't plan and strategize, I'm not physically fit, and I don't have a Quirk... I can't even control my temper. What sort of a hero tries to kill someone? I can't be like you, or like the other students. Even if I had all those things, I would still never be capable of being like you. I will never become a hero because… because I am me!"

He sat there, sobbing into his hands, while Ravenhead sat in front of him, looking at him sympathetically. He continued to cry for some time, the teacher quietly watching him, thinking. It was only as Jared started to calm down that Ravenhead placed a hand upon his shoulder. He looked up, and to his surprise, he saw the hero smiling at him.

"You remind me of myself when I was your age." Ravenhead told him with a comforting smile.

Jared looked back at him, plain disagreement on his face. "You're just saying that to make me feel better." He murmured.

Astonishingly, Ravenhead laughed. He raised his beaked mouth and let out a deep series of croaks, chuckling from the very back of his throat.

"You'd be surprised!" He said with a smirk. He leaned back on his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "I doubt you'll believe me when I say this, but there was a point in my life where I, too, was considered Quirkless"

Jared stared at him. "What?" He asked, not believing a word of what his teacher had just said.

"I'm not joking." Ravenhead said with a voice that gave off nothing but honesty. "Up until I was eighteen, I had not Quirk."

"Stop messing with me!" Jared said, irritated that his teacher would mock him in such a way. "That's not possible."

"It is." Ravenhead insisted, still looking at his student with an honest expression. "It's rare, but it happens. Most people develop a Quirk around the ages of four or five, but some individuals only develop their Quirk long after that. _Latent Quirks_ , they're called. Quirks that don't show till later in life."

Jared blinked. He didn't want to believe that such an outlandish suggestion was actually true, but the resolve in Ravenhead's face was starting to sway him. "I don't think I understand." He muttered, wiping his eyes as the tears started to stop. "So, up until you were eighteen, you were Quirkless just like me?"

"Yep." Said Ravenhead. "It was a strange experience. I woke up one day feeling itchy, as if I'd been stung by a thousand wasps. I looked in the mirror, and saw that my body was sprouting feathers, and my mouth and nose had fused into a beak. It was a real shock to see this tall, dark, feathery bird man looking back at me, when I had gotten so used to seeing a sad, spotty, scrawny kid standing there instead." He scratched his feathered chin and leaned in upon his chair once more. "I don't understand the science of it myself, but apparently something within your genetics doesn't quite work properly. You have all the signs of a Quirk, such as the missing toe joint, just like the average person, only for some reason your Quirk remains dormant beyond the point in time it should start to show itself. It remains locked within your DNA, until something unlocks it. I'm not quite sure what caused mine to show up. As I said, it happened overnight."

"That sound's unbelievable." Jared told him, not wanting to get hopeful, but already feeling the mild pangs of excitement in his heart.

"Maybe… but it does happen on occasion." Ravenhead stated.

Jared looked away for a moment, deep in thought. Then he turned back to his teacher, and asked the major question on his mind. "If you had one of these Latent Quirks, then is it possible that I might also have one, it just hasn't shown up yet?"

Ravenhead's happy expression slowly withered away. His brow drooped and his eyes narrowed with sorrow. "It's not a common phenomenon, Jared." He explained kindly, not wanting to get Jared's hopes up for nothing. "Only around one in a hundred-thousand Quirkless people develop a Latent Quirk. Compare that to less than twenty percent of the populous being Quirkless… it's very unlikely."

Jared felt that hope drop like a falling elevator, till it crashed down to earth once more. For a moment he had been given some hope, only to see it snatched away once more. It seemed that this was often happening to him. He had rarely, if ever, experienced a sensation of hope that was not swiftly pulled away from him.

Jared lay his head upon the table, weary and miserable. He was still paying attention to his teacher, though he wondered what the goal of this discussion was. So far he had only managed to make Jared feel more miserable and worthless.

"But the point I was trying to get at, Jared, is that I understand what it's like being Quirkless." Continued Ravenhead. "I spent the first eighteen years of my life that way. I had to carry a Quirkless card, I wasn't allowed to use public transport, I couldn't get into any good schools and was often sent home when I did turn up, I struggled to find a job… I didn't actually plan to become a hero, not at first. That was a sort of happy accident that came later."

"What did you want to be?" Jared asked in tired surprise.

Ravenhead chuckled. "You'll laugh at this." He said with an embarrassed grin. "I wanted to be a death metal singer."

Jared didn't laugh, but he did crack a small smile. The image of his teacher dressed in black leather with long hair, screaming into a microphone was quite funny. Of all the things he had expected his teacher to say, it wasn't that.

"I said you'd laugh." Ravenhead chuckled back at him. He scratched his cheek anxiously. "It was the only thing I was ever any good at. Playing guitar and screaming loudly. The first of those is a little trickier now, but the second I can still manage. I had this image of being the lead singer in a world-famous band." He poked Jared's shoulder with an excited talon. "Fun fact: my hero name, Ravenhead, actually came from the name of my first band." He admitted. Jared looked at him with raised eyebrows. " _The Flight at Ravenhead_ we were called. That was before my Quirk appeared. Afterwards it seemed like a rather funny coincidence."

"So why did you become a hero, then?" Jared asked, now curious about his teacher's history.

"Well, like I said, that wasn't my original plan." Said Ravenhead. "It was a sort of… well, a happy accident really. It was not long after my Quirk appeared. I was walking home from a friend's house. It was around eleven at night. I saw this young woman being mugged in an alley. Two men in dark hoodies had a knife pointed at her. I didn't usually see this sort of thing in the area where I lived. I don't quite know why, but when I saw these two men I felt a desire to stop them. It was strange. I was usually a quiet and cowardly person, but something filled me with confidence that night. I set upon the muggers. I didn't exactly know how to fight criminals at that point, but I managed to scare them off without getting cut. I caught one of them on the cheek with my talon, and that seemed to frighten them away. I remember the girl thanking me for my help. She asked me what my name was. I don't know why, but instead of telling her my real name I told her the name of my band. I think she misheard it, though. She said 'Ravenhead? Are you a new hero?'. I was going to say no, but then I thought about it. I realised that it had felt good to save that girl, and to stop those muggers. After she ran off, thanking me with a wave, I went home and thought about the possibility. I was no longer Quirkless, so in my mind I was now capable of becoming a hero if I wanted to. Before I had never considered the idea, but now…" Ravenhead paused, grinning with nostalgia. "After that day, I spent my time training to become a hero. There aren't many schools in the country who take students over eighteen, but I was lucky enough to get support from one of the academies outside of Galafrei. I met Kameron Morse around that time. He helped train me. That was six years ago."

Jared was sat listening in fascination. He knew that, compared to other famous heroes, Ravenhead was a relatively new figure. But learning all of this about the man, things he would never have guessed in his life, was giving him a new found sense of admiration. He would never have guessed that the number ten hero in the country had once been a shy, cowardly, Quirkless young man who wanted to be a singer. It all seemed so strange, yet astonishingly coincidental. What were the chances that Jared would meet possibly the only hero in the country who perfectly understood the struggles he'd been through?

But as admirable as the hero was, his story did not exactly comfort Jared about his own chances. Ravenhead had gotten lucky, and been born with a so-called Latent Quirk. He just happened to awaken his Quirk at the right point in his life, and came across a situation which encouraged him to use it in order to help people. Jared had not yet been gifted these chances, and there was no guarantee that he would. He was not Ravenhead, and he could never live that sort of a life.

"I've never stopped working hard to help people." Ravenhead continued, still grinning with pride and joy over his past achievements, not at all noticing the direction which Jared's thoughts had taken. "Seeing the faces of those I helped, hearing their cries of encouragement and gratitude… It's tough to describe the feeling it gives me. I realised that day that what I really wanted was to make people feel good, in whatever way I can. Not just by saving them from criminals or rescuing them from hazards. Just making someone smile at a complement, or laugh at a joke. That's what I live for, Jared. I continued to sing and play music, but now with the intent to bring people joy, not to be famous. I should know better than most that true fame comes with accomplishments. But life can be difficult for everyone. With so many awful things happening to all of us, sometimes all people need to keep going is one person reminding them that everything will be okay."

Jared's thoughts snapped back to awareness at those last words. He couldn't muster any words in response. It seemed that Ravenhead had hit the nail of his problems upon the head, and buried it back into the woodwork.

"I don't think you're incapable of becoming a hero, Jared." The hero explained, still smiling, with that grin now aimed in hope at the sad young man. "With enough effort and training, I think you can manage it just like everyone else in your class. You won't have the lucky start like I had, but even without it I'm certain you will be capable of making it there." He paused, letting his smile fall a little. "I think the biggest hurdle in your way right now is your self-confidence."

Jared looked at him with a raised, questioning brow.

"You constantly put yourself down for making small mistakes. I saw you doing this during the Entrance Exam, and now during the Combat Exam." Ravenhead put a kind hand upon Jared's shoulder, smiling at him with optimism. "Sometimes self-judgement can be useful for improving yourself, but I'm worried you treat yourself too harshly. I want you to start having more self-respect. You may have lost your fight with Tate, but that doesn't mean you have no chance of winning next time. Look back at the mistakes you make, and learn from them."

"But I need to get better." Jared argued, not angry or annoyed but defensive. The sorrowful part of his mind was trying to protect itself, to confirm itself as right. Depression often takes a hold of a person in such a way, and Ravenhead recognised this.

"Who says?" He asked. "You? Your dad? I'm not demanding so much of you, neither are the other teachers. We expect you to improve by yourself, by learning from your mistakes and continuing to push forward. You can't _force_ yourself to become better. That comes with experience, not with demands."

Jared paused with his mouth half open, wanting to speak but unable to form the words. His mind was fighting between the grips of hope and misery.

"You're making a mountain out of a molehill." Ravenhead explained. "Start trusting yourself more, Jared. It's good to set yourself big goals, but don't punish yourself for not reaching them. Don't throw all your efforts away just because you didn't quite make it there on your first attempts. It may come as a surprise, but nobody has it easy all the time. Sometimes we fall down, and if we stay down we will never move forward. The best thing you can do is get back up and keep going."

Jared shrank back in his seat. His mind was awash with feelings. His sorrow was still holding on, but only just. A hurricane of hopefulness and encouragement was ripping it from its roots, and soon enough it would be pulled free.

"I didn't pick you as a student just for a bet, Jared." Continued the teacher, now at the end of his conversation. "I chose you because I really believe you could make it as a hero. Forget being Quirkless. Forget being inexperienced. I believe that, with enough training, you can become a very capable hero, just like any other student. It's time you stopped wallowing in self-pity, and started trusting yourself."

Jared looked down at the desk. "I'll try." He mustered.

Ravenhead grinned, and patted him on the shoulder. "That's all I'm asking of you." He said kindly. "If you ever need to talk, don't be afraid to come find me. If I'm not around then just give me a call. I know I'm a hero, but I'll make time for you if you need it."

The teacher stood up from his seat, then paused half way and turned, snapping his fingers.

"Also, there's something else I want to suggest." He added, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "I don't know if you're a part of one already, but there are a few clubs and social groups throughout the country for young Quirkless people like yourself. I recently sponsored one in Galafrei called the Odd Crowd. It's a small group, made up mostly of teenagers like yourself. They have a social media page, so you shouldn't struggle to find them. I thought, if you every felt lonely or powerless, then maybe turning up to one of their social meetings would make you feel better."

Jared nodded with consideration. He had met other Quirkless people, but had never really tried to make friends with any of them. The only exception was Finlay Michaels, and Jared barely spoke to him anymore, not since he started studying at Broadhurst Heroism Academy. Maybe it would be worthwhile. As much as Jared was enjoying his time with the class of BHA, and had made good friends out of a few of them, they couldn't relate to his situation, nor his experiences with society. The members of these groups would be able to relate, and if Ravenhead had sponsored one then perhaps they also supported the idea of Quirkless heroes. If joining this group didn't make him any new friends, then maybe it would help encourage him to keep working towards his goal.

"I'll look into it." He said with an optimistic side smile. Ravenhead smiled back, his beak twisting into a crescent shape and the feathers around it raising up to accommodate for the unusual movement.

"Great!" He stepped back, leaning upon the table behind him. "You'd better go grab some lunch. Your next lesson will be in forty minutes. I imagine your classmates are missing you."

Jared rose from his seat, grabbing his bag from under his chair and swinging the strap over his shoulder in a swift movement. With a final nod of thanks towards his teacher, Jared left the classroom. He walked with confidence down the red carpet hallway of the main building, and followed it towards the dining room.

While some of the self-doubt and pessimism still hung in the back of his brain like cobwebs, most of it had been aired out for the new, colourful, hopeful wallpaper. His problems had not gone away, but now Jared had more confidence that he could resolve them. Things were not completely hopeless. He _could_ become a hero. He just had to keep fighting for it. Jared was excited to get started with his next PE lesson. Rain or no rain, he would work ten times harder to improve ten times faster. He would do everything he could to make his dream happen. He _would be_ come a hero, no matter what!

But first of all, he had to correct his wrongdoings, the most recent of which involved Tate Anderson.

* * *

When he entered the dining room he spotted Maisie sat at one of the middle tables, with Jon and Payton opposite her. As well as them, the other seats were taken up by Aaren, Freya and, shockingly enough, Tate Anderson. Maisie waved at him as he entered, and the others turned to look at him. She looked shocked to see him smiling. As he approached, he passed the table where Jason sat. He gave Jared a nasty glare, but Jared payed him no attention. He wasn't going to let Jason's hateful attitude upset him now.

"Where have you been?" Maisie asked with concern, as Jared sat down upon the seat opposite her, between Jon and Payton. "You never left the classroom. We've been waiting for ages."

"You didn't have to wait for me." He said back, still smiling happily at his friends. His sudden cheeriness seemed to have them all confounded. "Ravenhead wanted to speak with me, that's all."

"What about?" Asked Aaren, looking up from her glass of water, which was pressed to her lower lip.

As much as Jared was feeling better about his situation, in accepting his failures and continuing to move forward, he didn't feel that his friends needed to know about the mental crisis he had been through at this moment. He would tell them later, when the time was right. "Just some personal stuff." He answered elusively.

"You seem so chipper suddenly." Payton noticed. "Yet you were so glum earlier. Why the sudden change?"

Again, Jared gave them and evasive answer. "Like I said… Personal."

The group looked at him, but he only smiled back. They wouldn't understand, not completely. They didn't need to know about the struggle that had been going on in his head. They didn't have to be bothered by his personal struggles. He would tell them later, but now was not the time. He still had something he needed to do.

"Hey, Tate, could I speak to you for a minute?"

Tate looked up, mouth full of food. It was amusing to see his surprised expression with expanding cheeks. He swallowed and blinked a few times.

"You want to talk to me?" He asked, looking at Jared in bewilderment.

"Yes." Jared stood up and pushed his chair under the table. "Do you mind?"

Tate looked at him, blinking a few times more. Then, he asked with a straight face, "Is it okay if I bring Mitchell with me?"

Jared nodded. _It's not like I could separate the two of you_ , he thought to himself.

The three off them walked out into the corridor, and Jared closed the door behind them. Through the small window he could see his friends looking at him from the table, confused and curious. No doubt they wanted to hear what his conversation would entail, but they would have to live with not knowing. This conversation he planned to keep only between Tate and Himself. Mitchell was an unwilling third member, but Jared had hope that he would stay quiet.

"So, what's this about?" Tate asked, leaning against the wall opposite, folding his arms casually across his chest.

Jared inhaled, then exhaled in order to relax himself. He shouldn't be feeling so nervous about a simple conversation, but he knew how important it was for him to clear the air upon the subject they were about to discuss.

"I wanted to talk about our fight during the Combat Exam." Jared explained.

The brothers looked at each other, sharing a curious yet cautious glance. They looked back a moment later.

"Okay." Said Tate, wanting to hear what it was that Jared had to say.

Jared slipped his hands into his pockets. "I'm not sure what parts of it you remember…" He began. "But I wanted to discuss one part of it with you… to clarify a few things…"

"If this is about your loss…!" Tate interrupted quickly, snapping at him with humourful surprise.

"No." Jared responded quickly. "I don't care that I lost. I've gotten over that." He paused, "There was another moment I wanted to talk with you about. Do you remember when I… tried to pull your arms off?"

Jared kept his eyes upon the twins, feeling his nerves beginning to shake. He watched their expressions change as their memory of that moment in the fight returned to them. They went from confused to annoyed in the span of three seconds. It was like watching a fade between two separate images.

"Oh yeah… That…!" muttered Tate with a hint of anger. "I remember."

Jared coughed awkwardly. "I, uh…" He began, but his nerves were starting to unravel. Seeing Tate's anger had made him feel guilty, and that guilt had now made him uncomfortable in his current situation. Regardless, he continued on. "I wanted to apologise to you for that." He said, raising his head and speaking with a clear voice. "I went too far. I don't expect you to forgive me, but know that I regret what I did. I hope you can at least accept this apology."

Tate hummed thoughtfully under his breath, and unfolded his arms once more. Mitchell looked at Jared with a more decisively angered expression.

"An apology at the time would have been better." He snapped coldly, levitating beside his brother defensively. "And it's hardly much of an apology. How can you prove you won't do that again?"

Jared supposed that he would have to tell Tate about why he had snapped at that moment. He had been wanting to avoid the subject, but it seemed that it would be difficult to explain his actions without it.

"My mother is dead." He explained quietly, his eyes turned towards the floor. "When you made that comment about my nose, about how even a mother couldn't love it… I don't know, I just… I got angry. I know that doesn't excuse my actions, but… well… I don't know… I just wanted you to understand."

Jared looked up, and now he saw the new expression upon the boys' faces. He knew at that moment that he would remember it for the rest of his life. To his everlasting shock, Tate was looking at him with empathy. This was an emotion which Jared had assumed Tate could not feel, but evidently he was wrong. The anger that was seen in his eyes had faded away. For possibly the first time in his life, Tate was speechless.

It took him a complete minute to formulate any words with his mouth. The first of those words was _Oh_. The second was _Um_. Then he finally followed up with a complete sentence.

"I didn't know." He said, rubbing his forehead awkwardly and looking away from Jared.

Mitchell also seemed to cool down from his rage high, yet he was still rather bothered by Jared's actions, where Tate seemed to have completely forgiven him.

"If that's true, why did you not tell us?" the ghostly brother asked.

Jared shrugged. "It's personal. I didn't tell anyone. They don't need to know." He paused, and clenched his hands together with anxiety. "Please, don't tell anyone else from class. I'd rather not make my personal life public."

"To be fair, that makes sense." Tate said in understanding. "I mean, my personal life's a bit strange as well. You probably wouldn't guess this, but Mitchell's name isn't actually Mitchell. It's just Twin, but when I was five I started calling him that, after my actual twin brother who died."

There was a moment of silence.

Jared eventually plucked up the confidence to ask "What?"

"I was supposed to have a twin brother." Tate explained. "My parents were going to call him Mitchell, but he was stillborn. Then my Quirk showed up, and it turned out I had an identical copy of myself following me around. I had been told about my dead brother by then, so I chose to name my twin after him." He chuckled. "Actually, that's a pretty disturbing story now that I think about it. Don't know why I told you about it."

"Neither do I." Jared muttered to himself. He was learning a lot about the other people in the school today, more than he had wanted to. "So will you keep quiet about this?"

Tate looked at him in thought once more, something which must have been taxing for him, yet this time he stood thinking with a more understanding and kind expression. Eventually he looked back at Jared, and finally gave him a small nod.

"Okay. I'll keep quiet about it." He agreed, receiving a look of surprise from the spectral Mitchell.

"Thank you." Jared said. Maybe he was wrong about Tate. Maybe he wasn't just loud, obnoxious, rude and perverted. Perhaps he could behave like an actual human being from time to time.

"However, if I do this for you, you have to do something for me in return." The boy continued a second later.

Immediately the hope Jared had placed in his person plummeted like a stone over a cliff. "Like what?" He asked.

Tate rubbed his hairless chin. "Maybe put in a good word for me with that friend of yours." He suggested. "Let her know that yours truly wouldn't mind getting acquainted with her in the future."

Jared sighed with a small groan under his breath. "Only if you start calling her by her actual name." He stated. "And only if you stop harassing her, and everyone else for that matter."

"You know I can't make that promise." Said Tate with a cheeky grin.

"Well then, I won't keep mine." Jared responded, much more sternly.

Tate narrowed his eyes. "You're persistent." He muttered with a grimace. Then he hummed once more. "Alright. Deal." He stated.

"And that includes Mitchell." Jared added.

Mitchell exhaled, looking down upon Jared from the ridge of his nose. "Fine." He muttered.

Jared smiled back at them, glad that Tate and his brother would – hopefully – no longer pester his friends by looking up their skirts.

"Also, if this isn't too strange of a request…" Tate spoke up once more, as Jared was about to turn and leave. "I know we sort of got off on the wrong foot, but do you think we could be… well… friends?"

Jared looked at him. It was indeed a strange request. People didn't usually asked someone to be their friend. Jared was no expert upon the subject, but the few friends he did have he made by simply getting to know them. Maisie, Jon, Payton and Aaren were all examples of that. Any other day he would have said no without hesitation, but on this day, after wallowing in his own misery for so long, he was in a really good mood.

"If you start treating people like _people_ , and respecting their personal space… then yeah, we can start being friends."

Tate now returned one of his classic, cocky, arrogant, almost narcissistic smiles back at Jared, with the unusual addition of lingering respect.

It felt so strange to Jared that he was capable of resolving the problems he was faced with. For so long he had felt feeble and tiny when faced with the overwhelming walls the world put in front of him. But now suddenly those walls didn't seem so tall anymore. With a bit of effort, and a solid footing, he could just about climb over them. Ravenhead was right. Having confidence in himself had made a huge difference. He would just have to remind himself every now and again.


	19. Chapter 17 - Type Fives

**Ty Urban**

* * *

It was a day which he would never forget, and not for any positive reasons. No truly positive experience ended inside the detainment cell of a local police station. As this fact alone would suggest, Ty Urban had not had a good day. Actually, this was an understatement. Ty Urban had not had a good life, and today was just another very bad day in a long list of very bad days. But upon that list, this day stood out for one very big reason. It was the day in which his life had taken a dramatic dive, from a thirty degree descent to a ninety degree drop.

He knew why he was in the cell, and in truth he could not hate the officers for what they had done to him. He sat upon a cold metal bench, a hard metal hammock to his left and a massive steel door in front of him. There were no bars or windows upon any of the walls, nothing which would let anything from outside into the cell, not even light. Likewise they let nothing which might be inside the cell out. Ty was being kept inside one of Scarow's high security quarantine cells. The walls were padded with a strange black material, the same kind which the officer's vests were made of, and were used to pad their handcuffs. Ty wasn't sure what the stuff was supposed to be. It wasn't exactly comfortable to touch. It layered the floor, roof and four walls of the cell, so he couldn't help but touch it. It was like stepping on Velcro.

He had been there for several hours, and by then Ty had not been expecting any visitors. There was no one waiting for him to come home, nobody who would care if he went missing, or come to free him if he were imprisoned. He was fully prepared to remain in this cell for the rest of time. So he was unpleasantly surprised when the giant lock suddenly pulled back and the heavy door began to swing open.

Light seeped in from the hallway outside, revealing the state of the young man. He sat in ragged clothes, his feet bare upon the cold floor, his long black hair a mess and his skin pale yet coated in dust and dirt. As the door swung open wider, the vision of a police officer came into view, stood before him with one hand upon his belt and the other gripping a baton in case the prisoner were to attempt an escape. He looked in at the boy, and with a cold and unkind grimace he stated "There's someone here to see you."

Ty looked back at him, confused. He knew that there wasn't another person in the country who cared whether about his existence, so who was this person that had turned up to his cell.

The officer took a step back, allowing a new figure to step past him. The details of his face were hidden by the glare of the hall light upon his back, but Ty could make out his clothing. He wore a black hoodie, with the hood up over his large head, and a pair of grey chino trousers that passed his ankles. Curiously enough he wore no shoes, and as he stepped upon the floor of the cell he create an unusual soft clopping sound.

"Don't get to close to him, sir." The officer warned as the hooded figure entered the room. "He's one of them dangerous ones. Found him at a crime scene this morning."

"What happened?" Asked the figure in a low, gruff voice.

"Not quite sure, but we're still looking into it. We found a woman lying dead on the floor of her home, and the boy was sat next to her. He came quietly, which we found surprising. It seems she was his mother." The officer shuddered. "Sir… she was half decomposed, yet forensics insist that she was freshly dead. I don't even know how that's possible…"

"And you suspect the boy did it?"

"It's more than likely, sir. Nobody else had been near the home this morning. We tried to take a few tests and, well…" The officer rubbed his brown. "…The evidence suggests he has some sort of Type Five, sir. We don't quite understand its effects, but… he seems to dissolve anything that touches him."

The figure hummed under his breath, his head lowering by a minute inch.

"I don't think the commander will be too pleased with you doing this, sir." The officer continued. "No disrespect meant, but it's not exactly…"

The figure glanced back at the officer, who appeared to fall quiet upon witnessing his expression. Ty was unable to tell what was upon the figure's face, as a harsh shadow fell across the entirety of his lower jaw.

The officer nodded awkwardly and took a step back. "I still think you should be cautious with him sir. If he makes any sudden movements, shout for us immediately. And don't touch him, under any circumstances!"

The figure turned away from the constable now, and as his lower jaw left the elongated shadow and entered the light once more, Ty could see a small optimistic smile stretch upon his lips.

"It's okay, constable." He said, with an almost contagious sense of calm. "I am in no danger."

Ty wondered why the man was so calm, after hearing the descriptions that the officer had given him. There was no reason for anyone to have such calm when Ty was present. He knew better than anyone the effect his Quirk had upon people. If this figure had that same knowledge, he would have run as far away as he could. Yet there he stood, unafraid, in the doorway of a high security quarantine cell.

As the heavy door was closed behind him with a slam, and the lock was put back into place with a heavy clunk, the two of them were left alone in the cell together.

The figure was quiet for a few seconds longer. He looked up at the ceiling, and scoffed in disapproval. "Can't they put any lights in these cells?" He muttered. "I can barely see a thing."

He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled from it something small and metal. There was a flicking sound, then scraping, and then a small flame appeared before the figures face. It created a small orange glow within the lightless cell. With the presence of its flames, Ty could make out more of the figure's face. He had a shortly trimmed beard that spread from ear to ear and covered the entirety of his mouth region. His eyes were brown and small, and his eyebrows were bushy and long. As Ty studied the figure's face, he noticed that something curved and bony was protruding from the edges of his hood. It took him a minute to realise that these were horns.

Likewise, the figure could now make out further details of the young man. Ty was not just skinny, he was malnourished. His arms were as thin as twigs, thinner than any bone should be. His hair was long yet falling out in clumps. His ribs poked through his skin like spear tips threw a skewered pig. His face was gaunt and his cheeks were flat. A chicken nugget had more meat in it than he did. His body had converted what muscle it could spare into food, leaving him skeletal in shape. What sort of a home had this boy come from?

"Do you know who I am?" The figure asked after a moment, with an unusual tone that suggested inquisitive curiosity rather than self-centred demand. Ty shook his head weakly, folding his arms around his scrawny stomach. There was a quiet rumble from his belly, which was squished inwards as if it were wound by an elastic band. "I am a hero." The figure stated. "Though not one that you will have heard off. I go by the name Aries." He reached out a hand. "Now, would you tell me your name?"

Ty looked at the hand. It hadn't moved more than a few feet away from the man's chest, but Ty would let it no closer. "Don't touch me!" He screamed. In a sudden violent motion he moved back, banging his head against the padded wall behind him, and curled up into a huddled shape upon the bench

The man paused, and retracted his arm. With the flame close to his face, he looked at Ty with concern.

"Why?" He asked. "What will happen if I touch you?"

"I will hurt you!" Ty sobbed, shivering as the cold metal seat spread a chill up into his feet.

"How would you do that?" He asked.

"My Quirk." Ty muttered, responding with a weak whisper.

The hero, Aries, exhaled in thought. His extended arm had fallen to his side.

"Was it your Quirk that killed your mother?" He asked, as kindly and respectfully as he could.

Ty nodded slowly. His sobs were absorbed by the padded walls, creating the weird sensation of being stuck in a void. Other than the light of the flame, nothing entered or exited the room, and anything made within it seemed to dissipate moments after creation, never moving far away from its source.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Asked the hero.

Ty gave a definitive shake of the head. Whatever had happened, it was clearly distressing for him.

The interrogating hero rubbed his nose with his free hand, and then let it slide into the pocket of his hoodie. As he retracted it, he pulled out a small cigarette, which he lit with his lighter. Then he groaned.

"Damnit." He muttered to himself in annoyance. "I keep meaning to quit, but I always forget."

He took two puffs before exhaling a cloud of grey smoke. Ty coughed weakly, as the fumes entered his lungs and eyes, and he tried to waft it away. The hero extinguished the tip between his fingers, showing no signs of pain or burns, and placed the smouldering remains back in his pocket.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He continued with a more soft voice. "The police brought me in to make sure this was not the actions of a criminal group, and since they found you at the crime scene they suspected the worst." He leaned forwards upon his toes. "So, if you know anything about what happened this morning, I need to you to tell me. Did someone put you up to it? Were you trying to join a gang, and this was the initiation trial? Did she attack you? I need to know these answers."

Ty didn't want to answer him. The truth was too painful to bare, and acknowledging it would only make that pain more powerful. However, in his current situation, he had little choice but to tell the hero.

"It was an accident." Ty explained, quietly and slowly like a terrified child.

"I'm sure it was." The hero said with pity. "But I need you to be honest with me. Tell me exactly what happened."

Ty didn't understand why, but he felt at ease with the hero. He had made it clear that he had no intention of harming or abusing Ty, but there was something else there. Something about his voice which made him seem trustworthy, dependable.

"I just… wanted a hug." Ty muttered weakly. "That's all I wanted."

Aries nodded slowly, not judging or suspecting Ty, but simply letting the boy talk and taking in what he had to say. He was certain that, in his own time, the boy would reveal everything he needed to know.

"She never hugged me." The boy shuddered at the memory, the cold chill of the metal bench making the hair on his legs stand on end. "I was lonely. I just wanted a hug… I… I didn't know how quickly it would…"

Ty sat with his head buried into his legs, tears pouring from his eyes. He could not see the hero's face. If he could, he would have seen his expression gradually change to one of purest sympathy.

"It's not your fault." Aries said to him, in his more kind and sympathetic voice. It wasn't much different to his natural gravelly tone, but it managed to carry the emotion he wanted.

"It is!" Ty insisted. "I killed her. My own mother. I killed her! I'm a freak!"

The hero leaned back on his heels. He scratched at his chin thoughtfully. "You never told me your name." He said after a few seconds.

The boy wiped his dripping nose. "Ty Urban." He said.

The hero turned away from the boy, examining the left wall of the cell curiously.

"From what the officers have told me, it's highly likely you'll spend the rest of your life in here." The hero explained slowly and solemnly. "It is rather evident to me that you have a Type Five Quirk. Do you understand what that is?"

Ty shook his head.

The hero sighed solemnly. "They are highly dangerous Quirks. The user of such a Quirk either has limited control over it, or none. Though the extent of their effect may vary, they are always fatal and cannot be prevented from activating. I'm sorry, Ty, but you are one the unfortunates to be born with such a Quirk."

The poor, distraught, underweight boy shrank further into his sobbing ball, shaking with grief and fear. The hero couldn't help but feel sorry for him, yet he carried on his what he had to say.

"Because of the danger they pose, almost all Type Five Quirks get locked away in cells such as this one." He explained "Most of them never get to see any sort of sunlight." He paused and turned. "However, because of a certain special arrangement I have, I might be able to get you out of here."

Ty raised his eyes. The suggestion may have been encouraging to anyone else, but to Ty it was horrifying.

"You can't do that!" He shouted, terrified. "I can't be allowed out! I'll hurt people."

The hero looked back at him. Ty found it startling to see him looking so calm, almost as if he was completely unaware as to how dangerous the boy truly was.

"I don't believe you will." He said, sliding his free hand into his pocket. He held the lighter close to his mouth so that Ty could see him speak. "If you were truly such a danger, you would have killed more people before now."

Ty looked back at him in shock. How could this man assume that he wasn't so dangerous? Ty had just admitted to killing his own mother. He hadn't even meant to, it had just happened so fast that he couldn't stop it. He had only touched her for a few seconds, and that was all it had taken. Because of him, she was gone.

"From what I have seen and been told, your Quirk is certainly very potent." The hero continued to explain. "It takes effect instantly and you appear to be unable to control it. It undoubtedly would fall into the category of a Type Five Quirk." He raised a finger. "However, it has not affected anything which has not come into direct contact with your skin. If your Quirk had an area of effect, it would have caused damage to the bench which you are sat upon, let alone your house and the officers who brought you in. Therefor it seems to me that it _only_ affects things which touch you. That small detail may seem irrelevant, but it is the best chance we have at fighting for your freedom."

Ty was now confused. The hero was clearly smart enough to deduce how his Quirk worked just by hearing about it, but how was he planning on using this information? Why did he even want Ty to be free? The two of them barely knew each other. Why would he go to such lengths to free him from a life sentence he very much deserved?

"I don't underst…" Ty spoke.

"These cells are meant to contain the most dangerous criminals and Type Five Quirks." Aries clarified. "The padding on the walls, ceiling and floor is a special man-made substance designed to neutralise the effects of all Quirks, making it impossible for one to be used for escape. The side effect of this is that it also stops a Type Five Quirk from spreading if said Quirk affects an area. Yours, however, does not, and there for would not be considered as dangerous in the eyes of the law. That is the detail we shall use to convince them. The judicial system of this country isn't perfect, but the laws it has in place make sense to me. They are necessary, even though they can be rather cruel. However, sometimes they are lenient. Your mother's death was an accident, not murder. Though this would still land you time in prison, I strongly believe I can find a way around this. I am no lawyer, but thanks to my career I have a wide understanding of the intricate laws in this country, and if you would accept me I shall happily stand before a judge on your behalf."

Ty gripped his hair, bewildered. The hero was talking so quickly that he had lost track of the conversation. He was still struggling to understand why this was happening, and why such a figure would waste his time trying to help him. Ty knew that he could not be saved. Why did this man care so much?

"Why?" Ty asked quietly. His voice was as frail as his body, and it carried with it no confidence or joy or hope. "Why are you doing this?"

The hero looked back at him with a pitying expression. "Because I hate to see children suffer because of situations they cannot control." He explained simply. He said it with such genuine sincerity that Ty was truly stunned. "And considering the power you were born with, I imagine you've been suffering for most of your life."

He extinguished the flame of the lighter.

"So, Ty…" He said with a quiet yet meaningful voice. In the dark he took a step back. Ty could barely see him, but he heard his footsteps upon the soft padding of the floor. "Yes or no?"

Most of that day had become a blur in the fog of his memory. There were many parts of it he wished to forget. As the days slid away by like sand in an hourglass, the image of that moment grew foggier, and many of its details became lost in the blur. There was one thing he would always remembered, however. He remembered that he said yes.

* * *

Ty awoke, not in sweat or fear or shock, but with the resigned laziness of a sloth. It was the same dream again, the same memory. The incident which had led to his encounter with the hero Aries had been six months ago. It still hung in his mind, like a bad feeling that he could not shake off. He knew why it was there, sitting at the back of his thoughts. The trouble was he couldn't bring himself to confront it.

It had been mid-April upon the day of the incident. It was now the beginning of October. Aries had done exactly as he had stated. He had taken the matter straight to court, and in almost no time at all he had managed to convince the judge and jury to his way of thinking. Though it had not been a perfect process, the hero had not only managed to earn Ty's freedom, he had also managed to convince the court to drop the charges of manslaughter against him. This had come with a condition, however. Instead of being locked up in a cell, Ty would be placed under house arrest. This condition would be permanent, with the only exception being for school hours, and even then he had to be escorted by his guardian. A month later the ordeal was over and Ty was free.

He lifted himself out of his small, frameless bed. Unlike most pieces of sleeping furniture, Ty's bed was made of solid grey plastic. His sheets, pillowcases and mattress were made of a soft plastic netting, consisting of thousands of tiny plastic strands weaved together. In fact most of the furniture in the room was plastic, including the end table, wardrobe, drawers, desk, chair and even the door. All electronics in the room had a plastic casing, including a small white alarm clock, which flashed in red letters the time, 7:46 AM. He had set his alarm for seven fifty. Again, he had woken up before he was supposed to. He scolded himself for that. It seemed that his body was trying to deprive itself of sleep. He would stay up late into the night, doing nothing but staring out of his small bedroom window at the city outside, trying to avoid the void known of unconsciousness, where his internal fears could manifest. Now he was waking up earlier then he needed to. But of all the things chewing away at Ty's troubled psyche, his health was not one of them. He could not care if he died today, tomorrow, or in a hundred years' time. If he died, he died. After all, who would miss him?

He left his bedroom right as his alarm went off. He let it bleep to itself, growing louder with each repetition, and hurried downstairs, keeping his hands off the wooden banister and plastered brick walls. He was already dressed in his usual outfit. From the exterior it looked to be; a thick black leather dress, complete with skirt, long sleeves that reached past his wrists, with the addition of trousers to cover his legs to the ankle, long black cotton socks, black leather boots, black leather gloves, and an additionally attached grey collar which he left stood up around his throat like a neck brace. It was so tight it practically choked him.

Ty had never worn such clothing before, not until recently, yet he had always wanted to. He could remember his mother laughing at him when he had told her. She said that such clothing was meant for girls, and Ty was not a girl. That had never made sense to him. So what if it was _meant_ for girls. So many things on planet earth were meant for one purposes, yet were more useful or usable in another.

At seven fifty-two he prepared his breakfast, a plastic bowl of porridge with a plastic spoon and a plastic glass of processed orange juice. They were two of the few things his Quirk would not effect, so it was possible for him to digest them… if he was careful. He couldn't eat foods such as bread, meat, fruit and vegetables, as his Quirk made them completely inedible within the span of three seconds. There were other foods that it didn't effect so quickly, but most of them would degrade too quickly for him to attempt eating. Porridge was one of the few foods he could eat, and so his breakfasts consisted of it.

Ty had been born with a very unfortunate Quirk. He referred to it as _Rot_ , as it caused similar effects to those of decaying matter. If any biological organism, living or non-living, came into contact with Ty's skin, no matter where upon his body, it would instantly begin to degrade. The rate at which it degraded depended upon the thickness and size of the material, and the effect would halt the moment contact was broken. Ty had witnessed many results created by his Quirk. A house fly would dissolve into nothing within a second. Anything the size of a domestic cat could take between three to ten seconds to degrade to a fatal point. Tree roots would evaporate after eleven seconds, and the tree truck could take a whole minute to erode completely depending on its width. As for humans, usually they would break away before a fatal point could be reached, but Ty had already witnessed deaths from something as simple as a momentary touch. Touching someone for so much as a microsecond could result in scars and scabs forming upon the area of contact. Any longer and their skin would begin to peel away, and the muscle underneath would grow fetid and dissolve in seconds. Because of this, Ty was unable to touch people, to feel their skin upon his own. It pained him to recall the fact that, throughout his entire life, he had never been hugged.

Even clothing was not safe from the effect of his Quirk, and this left Ty in a very unusual situation. Cotton, wool, hemp, silk, fibre, fur and leather would all erode at different speeds after being worn. There were very few substances which his Quirk had a slow effect upon. Stainless Steel seemed to be mostly resilient to the effects of his Quirk, primarily because it doesn't rust. In testing it took ten hours to begin showing signs of degradation while in contact, though instead of rusting it just began to peel apart. Ty was not especially keen to walk around wearing a suit of armour to protect his decency. The other option was plastic, which barely degraded at all, no matter how long it stayed in physical contact with him. As a result, most of his clothing was made of a thin, flexible plastic material, with a layer of leather on the exterior to make it look a little less unusual. Aries had made arrangements with a private hero clothing company to create some fitting clothing for the boy to wear. Ty had requested that his torso wear be a black dress, which had sparked a few questions in the company making it. The end result was his current attire, the only piece of clothing he had worn that had not rotted away after a week. It was thanks to this company, and the research they had put together with Aries' assistance, that Ty was able to wear, eat or touch anything. Thanks to them, they had discovered the one thing his Quirk could not effect.

A few minutes later he heard footsteps walking down the stairs to the living room. As he looked back at the doorway, he saw his adopted sister, Catherine Griffiths, enter in, wearing her usual green and beige parker coat. She gave him a small nod of acknowledgement, but as usual Ty ignored her. The both of them had come from very similar situations. Both of them had lived in Scarow before being adopted. Both of them had Type Five Quirks, though apparently Catherine's was not quite as hazardous as his own, and didn't need as many precautions. He wasn't sure what had happened to Catherine for her to be taken is as a hero's adopted child. Whatever it was, Aries had taken pity on her, just as he had on Ty. The two of them had barely shared a word, not even a simple 'hello' or 'good morning'. Ty never felt bad about this, however. He went about his usual daily regime, paying no attention to anything which did not directly affect him.

As the clock reached twenty minutes past eight, the both of them were entering the back of a small silver four seater car, preparing to head for the academy. Their first lesson would start at ten, so for most students heading to school at this time would be far too early. However, they had the joy of experiencing the hours before school began, thanks to their foster father being one of the teachers.

Even though they were the same person, Kameron Morse and the number fourteen hero Aries were to very different personalities. Aries was stoic, determined, cunning, quick-witted and intelligent. He had all the mental assets necessary for a hero who worked undercover in the criminal gangs of Scarow. Kameron Morse was much more of a simple man. He liked to read, and go on long walks through the local park. He cooked all of his meals, using fresh ingredients. He always had a calm and carefree attitude, taking life at a leisurely speed and paying little focus to the few bumps upon its road. There was nothing about him that would suggest that his official career was as a highly acclaimed hero. This seemed to suit him quite well, however. The only real surprise was that he was unmarried. Other than his two adopted children, Mr. Morse lived by himself, and had done so for a long time. There were occasions where a couple of men would arrive at the house, usually late at night. Some of them were there to discuss work, some of them were personal friends, and some were there for other reasons. Usually Kameron would ask the two teenagers to stay in their rooms at this time, though he would never force them. Ty had no reason to argue against this request. It was understandable that a hero would deal with secretive or personal discussions from time to time. That and Ty was happy to not be around other people.

That sentiment was the current difficulty in his life. Because of Aries' arrangement, Ty had to go to school, and because the hero was working as a teacher at a hero academy, Ty would be studying there. Ty had no interest in becoming a hero. The last thing he wanted was to be around more people. However, he had no choice in the matter. At least the classes were small, and because of Aries' arrangements with the headmistress, he would be allowed to leave the class if he needed to. The teachers all knew about his Quirk, and had been thoroughly detailed in the process of contain it should its effect threaten to injure anyone. Ty had no issue with the teachers being aware of his power. He would rather keep it quiet from the rest of the class however. He had already seen the reaction some of them had to knowing learning that one of their classmates had a Type Five Quirk. He didn't want to think of how they would react if they knew that it was him, and just how dangerous his Quirk was.

* * *

The car pulled up at the grounds of the academy at half past eight. Both Ty and Catherine were made to wait in the refectory while Aries and the other teachers prepared the lessons of the day. During this time neither of them spoke. They sat in silence, staring at the floor.

Considering that the day was a Wednesday, their first lesson was PE. Ty rarely did much during these lessons, though in truth he rarely did anything. Because of his unique situation he had no choice but to take the class in his usual clothing, which meant that as the weather grew colder and wetter his dress would collect mud and rainwater. Compared to the other students he was especially lazy in his attitude. While he could manage both short and long distance running, he chose to stay towards the back. It made no difference to him whether he came first or last. He would rather slip into the spot which nobody else occupied, so that he could be far away from the rest of the class. Cardio exercises were not so tricky for him, certainly after regaining weight after spending most of his life dangerously thin. He had more difficulty with tasks involving physical strength. As much as he had regained much of his muscle mass over the last six months, his specific diet made it impossible for him to build the muscles he would need to be a bodybuilder. But Ty was fine with that. Some of the other students took pride in the number of weights they could lift, but Ty was happy lifting a small pair of plastic dumbbells from time to time.

Although Ty did not plan to make any use of his physical training, at the very least the PE lessons distracted him for a few hours. The same could not be said for the other lessons. Ty had never had a chance to go to school up until now. He had spent his entire life locked up in his mother's house, as she was terrified of what would happen if he interacted with other children. Ty had come to learn that her fear was not ungrounded. He wondered if primary and secondary school was as tedious as this. The subjects were dull and exasperating. Some of the students seemed interested in what the teachers had to say, but Ty couldn't bare it. He would sit there at the back of the room, not listening to a word that was said, avoiding the shoulders of Jason Jones who sat next to him.

Because of his lack of interest in anything being taught at the academy, his days there were dull yet quick to pass. Ty avoided interaction with others at all cost. He would have avoided taking part in the Combat Exam if he could, but since his foster father was one of the teachers organising the event he had no choice but to turn up. At first he had decided to give it an honest attempt. Then he had accidentally touched his opponent. It had only been for a second, yet it was enough for his Quirk to cause damage. He could still see the scab upon Aaren's bare leg, not quite heeled over yet. It had been very unfortunate that on such an important day he would forget to wear his gloves.

As the PE lesson ended, and the class entered the refectory for their lunch, Ty went through the process of planning his specific meal. The cooking staff knew about his unusual diet and the type of cutlery he needed, so they had a small meal of vegetable soup ready for him in a plastic bowl. Ty took a seat at a small table, absent of any other students. From a nearby table he could hear a few of the others chatting. Jared and his group of friends were busy talking vividly over their meal. His attentive ears could pick up a little of their conversation.

"Ravenhead suggested this group that I should go see." Jared told them, an unwavering smile upon his face. "Apparently it's made up of Quirkless people like myself. I thought I'd go meet them this weekend."

"Sounds like a good idea." Jon told him.

"Can I come?" Maisie asked, giving Jared a keen stare. He was evidently surprised by the request.

"Sure." Said Jared." I don't think they'll mind me bringing a friend along, and it would be nice to have you there. I won't feel so nervous that way."

Maisie grinned, eager to spend some time with him.

From the end of the table Aaren raised her hand and said "I would also like to go with you."

This got a surprised look from the rest of group, especially from Maisie, who seemed to sneer at the suggestion.

Jared's mouth opened, and a flustered squeak escaped before he said "If you like." Then he asked, "Why do you want to come with us?"

Aaren shrugged, with a hint of awkwardness in her expression that the others didn't pick up on. "It sounds like it would be an interesting experience."

Jared didn't seem at all opposed to the suggestion, which surprised Ty. Why would anyone like the idea of spending time with anyone else? People were awful. They were always so concerned with themselves, so focused upon their own needs, barely paying any attention to the mental state of anyone else around them, barely capable of seeing the subtle hints upon each-other's faces. Even if he did not have such a fatal Quirk, Ty would have hated social interaction. He couldn't comprehend why people got such enjoyment out of spending time with other people. To Ty, other people had been nothing more than an annoyance. There weren't many examples in his life that went against this belief. Even his own mother had not gifted him with her company, not even as she was dying.

Ty quickly averted his attention away from the group. His mind was spiralling down a path he had to avoid. He stood up, tray in hand, and left the refectory. This was not especially unusual behaviour for him. He hated being around people, and overhearing their pathetic little quarrels and boring conversations made him feel tired.

He decided to go for a walk around the academy grounds. He did this every so often, whenever he had free time between lessons and wanted to get away from the other students. None of the teachers were opposed to this behaviour, so long as he returned inside for the next class, or participated in the following PE lesson if that was next. Usually he was alone during this time, just as he liked it. The other students would be inside, eating, chatting and occasionally arguing. It was warm inside, and well lit. Outside the late autumn weather was causing the sky to turn dark blue, with heavy black clouds on the horizon. He hadn't expected anyone to be outside, certainly not since their PE lesson for the day was already over.

So, when he turned the corner and saw Catherine sat upon a small wooden bench beside the exterior wall of the main building, he wasn't sure what to think. Certainly her parker coat would keep her warm in this cold climate, but what reason did she have to be sat out here alone. And then Ty recalled that, just like himself, she seemed to be weary of other people. He had never seen her talking with any of the other girls, chatting up any of the boys, even sitting with any of them. He recalled that she also had a Type Five Quirk, though what it was he didn't know. It wasn't the only thing he didn't know at that moment. For example, he didn't know why he was approaching her, or why he was sitting down next to her. Something had compelled his feet to move. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was loneliness. Whatever the reason, he was now sat beside his foster sister upon the wet bench, looking at the sports field at the back of the academy.

The both of them sat there quietly, not speaking or even acknowledging one another. Catherine took a few small bites from a ham sandwich she had brought with her wrapped up in tin foil. She looked sad. Any normal person would feel the need to ask if she was okay, but Ty did not feel this. He felt he should speak to her, however. The both of them were siblings now. They had never spoken before. Perhaps it would be beneficial for the both of them to talk.

It turned out that Ty didn't need to take the initiative. Catherine appeared to be thinking a similar way, as she turned to him and gave him a weak smile.

"Are you cold?" She asked, her voice quiet and nervous.

Ty didn't look at her, and kept staring forwards. It was true that his clothing did not exactly keep him warm in this weather, but he lied and told her "I'm fine."

Catherine nodded and looked away again, hanging her head awkwardly. She then turned back a few seconds later, asking "Why are you out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He responded, in a voice that was slightly unkinder then he had intended. Catherine shied away from him after that. A normal person would have apologised, but as was already clear Ty was not a normal person.

The silence between the two of them persisted longer, lasting twice as long before either of them chose to speak again.

"I don't like being around the others." Catherine explained, sounding pained as she spoke. "They don't get it. They don't know what it's like. They can spend time with each other without any fear of hurting one another. I envy them."

Ty looked at her, surprised. He hadn't expected such a comment from this shy, awkward young woman. He looked away. "Yeah." He agreed quietly.

"I can't imagine how tough it is for you." Said Catherine, looking at him with pitying eyes. "Never being able to touch anyone."

Now Ty was looking at her in shock. "You know about my Quirk?" He asked.

"Kameron explained it to me." She told him. "A few days after we started living together. He pulled me aside and told me about your Quirk's effect. He did so to make sure you don't accidentally harm me."

Ty felt strange about this. While he was glad that his chancing of harming her were greatly lowered, he wasn't sure he was happy with Aries telling another person about his ability, even if she was family now.

"It's tough." Ty said quietly. "But I manage."

Catherine gave him a small, fragile smile. "Did he tell you about my Quirk?" She asked.

Ty shrugged. Their foster father had not told him about Catherine's Quirk. Though he had been warned that she was also a Type Five, he wasn't sure what the effect of her Quirk was. It appeared that, like his own Quirk, it wouldn't show unless the requirements for its activation were met. A part of his brain was curious to know what exactly her Quirk was, though he was also cautious of the idea, as it could very easily be incredibly dangerous.

Catherine looked away anxiously, chewing her lip. She then looked back and leaned towards him. "I don't want you to tell anyone." She told him quietly. "It's rather embarrassing."

Ty looked at her, unsure what she had to be embarrassed of. His reason for being quiet about his Quirk was because of how the other students would see him. Maybe she had a similar reason, though her tone did not suggest so. In fact it suggested a more personal desire to keep quiet about the subject.

She leaned in toward his ear, staying far enough away to avoid setting of Ty's Quirk, and whispered something to him. Ty's eyes widened. When she was done, he turned and looked at her it genuine awkward surprise. She shuffled further away upon the bench, placing her arms on her lap.

"Please, don't tell anyone." She whispered across to him. "They'll just laugh at me."

Ty blinked. In the world that they lived in, where people could be born with the most unusual of powers, of course there would be individuals who developed rather strange Quirks. Considering the variety of powers each person could have, of course there would be people born with, for lack of a better word, risqué Quirks. Ty had not tagged Catherine as one of those people, but it appeared he as wrong.

Every human being, no matter of gender, sexuality, age, race or Quirk, is born with one of two types of genitalia. Ty was born with the male set, Catherine was born with the female. Ty's set was no different in shape or function to the average males. Catherine's, on the other hand, was extraordinarily different to the average females. For the average female, mammary glands were designed to produce milk to feed the offspring of the species. This was the very thing that defined almost all mammalian life on planet earth, including humans. In Catherine's case, hers had a secondary function. As well as creating milk, they also created high-temperature beams of light through crystalline areola, which connected to a large cluster of light-producing cells within the milk ducts. This was the effect of her Quirk.

"Laser Mammary Glands." Catherine muttered under her voice. She sounded offended by the words. "Some doctor dubbed it that when I was eight. My Quirk. Of all the absurd powers I could be born with…"

Ty blinked a few times, processing this information. There were certain things that most men just didn't want to know about, especially involving the bodily functions of the opposite gender. He felt that his psyche had been scarred for life.

"It sounds… painful." He said.

"It is!" Catherine muttered in anger.

She folder her arms across her chest, which made Ty subconsciously wince. He had several questions bubbling up in his mind, many of which were especially personal and inappropriate, so Ty discarded them. However, one of them had genuinely caught his curiosity, so he asked it.

"But why is your Quirk classified as Type Five." He asked.

She looked at him sharply, evidently offended that he would ask about the subject. Her expression changed when she saw his honest expression. She shrank into her seat.

"Well… It's very personal." She told him. Ty wondered what could be more personal than having breasts that fired laser beams. "It wasn't always a Type Five." Catherine explained. "Up until recently it was classified as Type 1… However…"

She looked away. Evidently something about the subject was really upsetting her, more than the actual focus of the subject itself. Ty realised that he was entering a very personal discussion with her, and that he would have to be careful about what he said to avoid upsetting her further. When she looked back at him, he saw a small glimmer of tears at the edge of her eyes.

"Back in Scarow, when I was at school, there was this boy…" She began to explain. "He was by no means that most amazing, attractive person in the world, but I had a bit of a crush on him. He was quiet, kind, sweet… We never got a chance to talk, but we had a few of the same classes together, and occasionally I would catch him looking at me. Then, one day, he came up to me. He asked if I would like to go out with him. I said yes."

Ty was beginning to wonder where this discussion was going, though he trusted that it had a purpose. For Catherine to be so embarrassed and upset by the subject, it had to hold some meaning to her.

"We were together for a week. We went to the cinema, had coffee at a couple of café's… occasionally held hands." She blushed a little, only for the colour of her cheeks to drain into white. "Then he asked me to his house. I went with him. We…" She paused. "Well, you can guess what we did. But, about halfway through, my Quirk went off." A tear slid down her cheek, and she began to choke. "He didn't know about it. It would activate if I was in a heightened emotional state. I suppose I was in one at the time. But usually it was harmless. However…" She held her head low. "Aries said that you killed someone with your Quirk." She said, changing the subject sharply.

Ty nodded.

"Well, you aren't the only one." Catherine said with regret. "When it stopped, he had two holes in his chest." She shuddered with grief. "It burned right through him…. He died instantly…" Catherine rubbed her eyes. "His parent's found us there. They called the police, and they arrested me for murder. Upon learning what had happened, my Quirk was redubbed a Type Five. Then Aries turned up to the station I was being detained at. He took pity on me and offered to take me in as his adopted daughter." She turned back to Ty. "Did he do the same for you?"

Ty nodded. It was strange to realise that this girl had been through a similar experience to him. For the first time he truly felt that he could relate to someone. Though her Quirk may not be as hazardous as his, she knew how it felt to be born with a dangerous power and to be shunned and despised because of it.

"Thank you for listening." She said, looking at him with a nervous smile. "There aren't many people I can talk to."

Ty couldn't agree more. This was one of the first times he had liked talking to another teenager. She had done most of the talking, but it had made him feel much better to talk with someone who understood his plight. It made him feel less alone.

"It's okay." Ty told her. He tried to smile back, but his thin lips struggled to form the right shape. She chuckled at his attempt.

"We should talk more often." She suggested. "Since we live with each other. We don't have to be lonely all the time."

Ty considered her point. Though he hated interaction with other people, he couldn't deny that the absence of it made him feel secluded.

"Yeah." He agreed. "Maybe."

Since moving to Galafrei and living with Aries, Ty's life had slowly been improving. In small ways he was starting to see the world as a much more vibrant place. However, there was still that nagging fear in the back of his mind that at any moment it could all collapse in on itself. Little could he know that, for both himself and Catherine, their lives would quickly begin to change. In some ways it would get better, in others… it would get much worse.

* * *

 **I want to quickly apologist for how long it has taken me to upload this chapter. I wanted to take my time with it it make sure that I treated the subjects in it with respect, and to also make sure that they made sense and came across properly. However, a few personal problems came up during the writing of this chapter, and have left me feeling exhausted and lacking motivation.**

 **Because of this, this chapter may feel dragged out or lacking in quality. If that is the case then I'm sorry. I just wanted to finish this one and upload it. I'm going to take a small break before working on the next one. Right now I need it.**

 **Thank you for being patient. I'd do the best I can to upload the next chapter sooner.**


	20. Chapter 18 - The Odd Crowd

**Maisie Collard**

* * *

The day was cold and windy. Usually she would forgo a coat, but on this day Maisie Collard had chosen to take one with her. There was no doubt about it, winter was on the way. Autumn had not quite ended yet, but in another month the sky would begin to turn grey, the earth would turn white and the trees would lose their leaves.

She had been standing in the small square for ten minutes now. On a day such as this she would usually stay inside, but she made arrangements to spend time with others, something which she rarely did. The Tuesday just gone Jared had suggested meeting up with a group of other Quirkless individuals in the town, and Maisie, full of curiosity, had asked to come along. She found it tough to explain why she wanted to go. It was partially the desire to spend time with her friend, mixed with the wish to understand him and other Quirkless individuals. She supposed that Jared must have been feeling something similar.

She wasn't sure why Aaren had wanted to go with them, however. What did she have to gain from this? Maisie didn't exactly like Aaren. It wasn't that she was a bad or mean person, far from it. Maisie had only ever seen her treat Jared and herself with kindness. That was actually what annoyed Maisie. Aaren was too nice, with seeming no reason to be. In Maisie's mind this was suspicious. She didn't have much experience with other people, but this suggested that the girl had some sort of ulterior motive. Maisie grew angry at the idea of another person becoming Jared's closest friend. She knew Jared longest, she knew him best. Jared was her best friend. What could this girl want with him? What was she after? Was it something more than friendship? Maisie wouldn't let that happen. She wouldn't have her friend stolen from her. But she could not control Jared's choices, and that scared her most. If he _chose_ to pay attention to Aaren and not to her, she could not prevent it.

She stood at the edge of Parish Street, her feet poking over the edge of the pavement. This was where she, Jared and Aaren had agree to meet. The time was now three forty. She was ten minutes early. The air sent her hair flailing behind her, catching upon the fluffy hood of her yellow coat. This was not the weather for wearing summer dresses, so she had replaced her floral skirt with a pair of tight stockings. While it did a little to keep out the cold, she could still feel her legs shivering as the autumnal wind brushed past her.

Eight minutes later Jared arrived, his hoodie zipped up to his neck and the hood over the back of his head. It was quickly pulled down by the wind, revealing his lengthening hair. Maisie had noticed that it had grown longer since they had started studying at Broadhurst Heroism Academy, but she hadn't quite realised just how long it had gotten. The back reached the base of his neck, and he was struggling to see past his fringe. Despite this he was making a hasty approach, smiling as best he could with cold cheeks.

"You need a haircut." Maisie said, no sensitivity in her words.

Jared smiled sarcastically back at her. "Thanks, mum." He stopped beside her, tapping his feet together. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Almost twenty minutes."

"Christ! You didn't need to come that early."

"My dad had to drop me off." Maisie explained. "There was a lot of traffic. He didn't want to wait."

"Then did you see the fighting?" Jared asked, excitedly pumping his fist.

She looked back at him, but not wearing the same face of enthusiasm. "I did, but I wasn't close by. I saw it in the distance." She took a step closer. "What happened?"

"Well, I wasn't there at the time, but I saw a bit of it on the TV." Jared said. "This big time criminal showed up in the Sontarr arcade, tried to rob several of the stores there. Next thing you know, several high ranking heroes came along and tried to capture him. They very nearly destroyed the whole street, but they eventually caught him."

"Any of our teacher's involved?" Maisie asked.

Jared thought for a moment. "I don't remember any being mentioned." He admitted. "I think the highest ranking hero there was a guy called _Blindsight_. He did a lot of the work, while the others were mainly recovery heroes there to usher everyone out safely. It was pretty cool to watch, though."

"Really." Maisie said. She wasn't especially interested in watching the battles which took place between heroes and villains. After her pathetic fight against Freya, she had lost the very little motivation she had to engage in combat with other people. But thankfully not all heroes had to worry about that. She could instead focus her training upon learning how to rescue and protect people, rather than beat the shit out of criminals.

"The traffic was probably bad because of that." Jared said. "I had to walk here, so it wasn't an issue for me. It was a rather long walk though."

Maisie hummed in agreement. It was getting very cold, and her legs were starting to go numb. "Where are we meeting these people?" She asked with an unconscious suggestion of impatience.

"Just down the road." Jared told her, pointing his finger ahead of them, to the road at Maisie's right. "At a place called the Millennium Star. I suggested we meet up here and go together, in case any of us get lost."

Maisie felt a little more warm-hearted at the suggestion. She hadn't originally realised the intention behind Jared's wish to wait out in the cold. At least he would be waiting with her.

Another five minutes passed, and finally Aaren arrived. Apart from wearing a blue body warmer, her clothes were no different to the sort she usually wore. Her shaved legs were bare, as were her arms.

"Hey guys." She said with a chipper smile despite the low temperature.

"Hey." Jared said as she approached. "You must be freezing cold."

"I'm fine." She said, with a hint of a shiver. "We won't be out here too long anyway. Shall we get going?"

"Sure." Jared said, and turned towards the road. "It's just down here."

"Are they expecting us?" Maisie asked.

"They should be." Jared said. "I emailed them on Tuesday night. One of them got back to me, said a few of them would be meeting here at this time. I don't know how big their group is. I think they just usually meet up to talk."

"It's rather nerve-racking." Maisie muttered anxiously. "I feel like I did on our first day at the academy."

"You don't like social interactions, do you?" Aaren noticed.

Maisie adjusted her hood so that it blocked the cold air off from the back of her neck. She didn't look at Aaren as she responded, rather insulted by her unnecessary comment. "Not really." She admitted. "I never know what to do."

"Well let's get going." Jared told the two girls, pulling his hood collar righter around his neck. "-before we all catch a cold."

The three of them walked hurriedly down the street, against the rushing wind which billowed through the narrow gaps of the buildings, until they reached a turning. Jared led them across the road and past a row of attached shop buildings. In this part of the city, where there were many shops, malls and stores, it was rather easy to get lost within the vast, winding paths and crowds of people. Fortunately there were few other people around on this day, so the group only had to worry about following the right road. Jared knew the location where this group of Quirkless citizens would be meeting, so he led them on. They travelled together further down the street, around a few more corners and crosslinking a few busy roads, until they finally reached the location of the meeting.

It was a small, one floor café, with a large, freshly cleaned glass window allowing those outside to look in and spot the many drinks and cakes being served. Outside were a couple of metal tables and vacant metal chairs. The weather was too cold for anyone to sit outside. All of the patrons were currently indoors, where there were four solid walls and central heating. The shop was not especially busy. There were a few tables with customers sat at them, but usually they were taken by just one or two people. Half of the tables sat unpopulated, with trays, mugs, glasses and plates with remnants of crumbs sat waiting to be taken away for cleaning.

The three teenage students of Broadhurst Heroism Academy looked in through the window. It did not take them long to spot the group they were looking for.

"That's them." Jared said, nodding his head towards a large table at the back end of the café. Six people were sat at it. The reflection of the glass made it tough to make out the figures, but Jared could still see their outlines. He glancing back at his two female friends. "Ready to go in."

Aaren and Maisie both nodded, though one did so with more confidence, while the other was blatantly nervous about the idea. Jared pushed the door open. A small bell chimed as he did so. The group turned their heads and spotted them. Up until that moment they had been chatting jovially, smiling and laughing at each other. Now they had all stopped, and turned their attention towards the newcomers.

Maisie felt a small twitch of nerves. It was always uncomfortable becoming the sudden centre of attention. Though he crossed her mind that stares were not of hate or disgust or distrust, just curiosity. If they had gotten Jared's email, they were probably on the lookout for him, and had most likely had this same reaction with everyone who had entered the café in the last hour. That thought made her feel a little more at ease, though it didn't quite rid her of her gnawing anxiety.

She could see in Jared's eyes that he was also nervous about this meeting, but unlike her he was doing a very good job of hiding it. He swallowed his fear and approached, smiling disarmingly, and raised a hand to wave.

"Hey." He said in a slightly quieter, more nervous voice than usual. "Are you guys with the Odd Crowd?"

The six people sat around the table looked at him for a mere second, looked to each other, and then turned once more towards him and grinned welcomingly. One of them stood up, a brown haired boy who looked to be nineteen.

"You must be Jared." He said, as his chair clattered over backwards. "Yes, we're the Odd Crowd. I'm Paul."

He approached with an extended hand, and Jared shook it. It was clear from his expression that the young man's hand was uncomfortable to hold. His fingers squeezed a little too tightly. Jared was rather glad to have his hand freed again a second later. Paul continued to smile at him, and then turned his eyes upon the two girls.

"Are they friends of yours?" He asked, giving them a curious expression.

"Yeah." Jared told him quickly. "Is it okay for them to be here? They're not Quirkless, but they wanted to come along."

Paul looked at him once more, and his smile grew a few centimetres in length. "Of course." He said jovially. "They're welcome to join us." He gestured a hand back. "Come sit with us. There's room for the three of you."

Jared, Maisie and Aaren followed Paul back towards his table, where the five other members of the group sat watching. A couple of them had pulled aside some chairs so that the three could sit with them. Jared took an empty seat near Paul, while Maisie and Aaren took the two to his left.

"So… Introductions." Paul said as he lifted his chair back up and sat upon it once more. "Guys, this is Jared Wreath. He's come to spend some time with us."

The five other members of the Odd Crowd who were present at that moment each raised their hand to wave, and said some form of greeting, each varying with the individual. Words such as 'Hi', 'Yo' and 'Heya' were stated by five separate mouths, and ended up forming a strange jumble of sound.

"And your friends?" Asked a blond haired man from the opposite side of the table. "

Maisie suddenly realised that all eyes were looking at her. She wasn't sure what to do, or how to respond. Slowly she raised her hand and waved awkwardly. "I'm Maisie." She muttered, giving them what she hoped was a confident smile. She wasn't sure if they could tell how anxious she was, but they smiled back at her anyway.

"Aaren." Said Aaren from beside her, looking much more comfortable and confident than her.

Upon the other side of the table the five members of the group each held up a hand to wave at them. Paul pointed a finger at each of them in turn.

"This is Tamsin." He said, his finger stopping on a short black haired teenager wearing a blue cap. She lifted her eyes up from the glare of her touchscreen phone, and nodded back at the three visitors.

"Hi." She said, and went back to looking at her phone.

"She's the antisocial member of the group." Paul explained in jest, "I'm surprised she decided to come along today."

Tamsin made a small annoyed grunting sound at the comment, and didn't take her eyes away from the phone. Paul moved his finger along to the boy to Tamsin's right. Unlike her, he was especially social and friendly. The moment all eyes were focused on him he began to grin, as if he were upon a stage before a cheering audience.

"He's Serge. He's the arrogant one." Paul explained. Unlike Tamsin, Serge embraced his humorous title, which only supported it as a truthful label.

"Yo, kids." He said, holding up a hand and giving them a solid thumbs up. "Nice to meet ya. Haven't had any younger people join us for a while now."

"We're sixteen." Aaren told him.

Serge shrugged. "That's young to me." He said with a strangely egotistical honesty. Maisie didn't feel that he was wrong in that statement. The man looked to be in his early twenties. He had a shortly cut blond goatee beard which outlined his lips, and on the upper lip a small silver ring had been pierced through. He was also large, in both height and width, with broad shoulders and long legs, and spiky blond hair that was almost the same length as his extensive forehead.

Beside him sat another girl who did not look especially different to him. She was smaller and shorter, but she had similar hair – only hers was clearly dyed blond – and instead of a lip piercing she had a nose ring instead. She had her arms wrapped around his chest, and his arm was across her shoulders. Even with Maisie's lack of social experience she could tell at a glance that they were a couple. The strange loving looks and happy chuckled they kept giving each other were off-putting. It made Maisie feel uncomfortable, as if she wasn't actually involved in any conversation with them. Glancing at Jared and Aaren, she realised it wasn't just her feeling this way.

The finger of Paul moved across to the girl currently wrapping her arms around Serge's chest. "And that's Katy, Serge's Girlfriend."

"Fiancée." Corrected Katy.

"Good grief." Muttered Tamsin.

"Oh… congrats." Jared said, a little awkwardly. Maisie wasn't sure what was going through his head, but she didn't imagine it was especially different to what she was thinking. The both of them looked very young to be getting married. Her parents had been in their thirties when they got married, and that was after living together for five years before hand. How long had these two known each other? Not for that long, surely.

"You two are moving quickly." Spoke the fifth member of the group, sat the opposite side of Katy. He had the most flamboyant dress sense of all of them. The others could pass for normal young adults, but he could have pretended to be a movie star. At this moment he was wearing lime coloured trench coat with white cargo pants and a pair of white rimmed glasses. His hair was black with dyed silver roots, and his left ear had a long golden earring hanging from it.

"Well, I've always believed that you should take every good chance you get." Serge responded. "So the second I got enough money, I went and bought the best ring I could find."

Katy held up her left hand and showed them all the small golden band upon her fourth digit. A small red jewel had been fixed onto it, and it reflected the lights of the café with a crimson hue. "This cost three-hundred and seventy-five pounds!" She exclaimed with uncontainable excitement.

"You could buy a house with that much money." Tamsin said.

"We've got the apartment." Responded Serge.

Tamsin gave them a cold look. "I mean a _proper_ house." She said.

Before the girl could start an argument, Paul moved along the flamboyantly dressed man opposite him. "This is Gabe." He continued. "He's the oddest member of the Odd Crowd."

Gabe chuckled, which surprised Maisie. He was treating the comment as a joke, but if it had been said to her she would not have found it funny. In fact she would have been rather hurt. But Gabe simply shrugged it off.

"And that's saying something, isn't it." He agreed. "That's why I fit in so well with you lot."

Paul's finger moved across to the final member, who up until this point had been keeping his head low. Only as the finger pointed at him did he raise his head. "And the last member with us to day… this is…"

"Finlay?" Jared exclaimed, surprised.

Everyone looked at him. So did the boy in question. To Maisie's surprise, he grinned, but it wasn't the kind of grin that suggested humour of happiness. It was more of an uncomfortable, awkward grin. Thinking back, it had seemed that the boy did not want to be noticed. However, he responded to the name and answered in return.

"Hiya, Jay." He said quietly. "Haven't seen you in a while."

The group looked at its sixth member, then at Jared.

"You two know each other?" Asked Serge.

"Yeah. We went to the same secondary school, up until July." Finlay said.

Jared's mouth was open, though he quickly closed it. He evidently had not been expecting to run into someone he knew. Maisie wasn't aware at this point that Jared had met any other Quirkless people his own age. She knew the statistic, and could have guessed that it was possible, but until now she had not known if he ever had met any. She suddenly realised that she knew very little about him from before they both met, on that fateful day in the tall grass.

There was an awkward silence as the two boys stared at each other. It was tough to tell what they were thinking, but it seemed from an outside perspective that the two were not especially glad to see each other. After a moment Paul stood up once more from his chair and announced. "I can spare a twenty. Would anyone like any drinks?"

Each member of the Odd Crowd raised their hands.

"Black Coffee." Gabe said.

"Cappuccino." Katy said.

"English Breakfast!" Announced Serge.

"The food or the beverage?" Asked Paul.

"The beverage, obviously." Serge said sardonically.

"Just water." Said Tamsin.

Paul's finger turned back to Finlay. "Want anything, Fin?" He asked.

Finlay shrugged. "Not really." He said.

"Okay." Paul now turned to the three visitors. "Any of you want anything. I'm willing to buy."

Aaren held up a polite hand of rejection. "I can pay for my own drinks." She told him.

Jared also shook his head. "I'm not thirty right now." He explained.

Now Paul's eyes were looking upon Maisie, the only one of the nine who had not yet said anything. She wondered if it would be rude for her to ask for a drink. Her two friends had both declined, but she had not brought any money with her, and she was starting to feel a little dehydrated.

"If it's not any trouble, could I have a caramel hot chocolate?" She asked.

Paul gave her a small smile. "Sure." He said.

"With whipped cream?" She added, looking a little embarrassed by the request. "And marshmallows… Preferably the pink one?"

Paul looked away, his cheeks puffing up slightly. After swallowing and exhaling heavily he turned back, his grin expanding slightly. "I'll ask if they can do that."

As the nineteen year old stepped away from the table, a list of drink catalogued in his mind, Maisie turned back to the group and saw that everyone was looking at her, trying not to laugh. She wasn't sure what they found so funny.

"Why is everyone laughing?" She whispered to Jared, who was also doing his best to restrain his giggling. He gave her a wide-eyes, humorous expression, which made her feel that she was being mocked in some way.

"It's nothing." He said, putting his hand over his mouth. "You were quite specific with your drink." He hinted. "Only pink marshmallows?"

Maisie was still confused. "I don't understand." She said.

"It's just that most people don't do that." He explained. "It's a bit… odd."

"Is it?" Maisie asked, still confused. She had made that request almost every time she had visited a café. Usually she would go with her parents, and they had never made a comment about it being unusual, and the barristers were never impolite and never laughed or even chuckled at such a request.

"Well, you'll fit right in with us." Serge told her kindly, though he was openly laughing about the matter. "We are the Odd Crowd after all. That name wasn't picked by accident."

"Why are you guys called the Odd Crowd anyway?" Asked Aaren, moving the subject of the conversation along so that Maisie wouldn't be so embarrassed by their laughing at her.

"You're better of asking Paul that." Said Gabe. "He started this group a year ago."

Aaren nodded. She was still shivering, even though they were now out of the cold weather.

"Are you still cold?" Jared asked her, looking concerned.

"I'll be fine." She told him, not wanting to bother anyone. "I'll warm up in a minute.

This didn't seem to be true, however. Her bare legs were shaking wildly, the hairs upon them standing to attention like an army. Jared unzipped his hoodie, slid his arms out, and passed it across to her.

"Here, put this over your legs." He said. "It should help warm them up a little."

Aaren looked at him for a moment, and then she took the hoodie and spread it across her lap. "Thanks." She muttered gratefully.

Maisie felt strange about witnessing this interaction. She wasn't sure what to make of it. From the outside it looked like a perfectly normal gesture of kindness, but there appeared to be something deeper behind it. Something a little bit personal. The way Aaren had said thanks. The speed at which Jared had offered up his hoodie, and how quickly Aaren had taken it, without a second of hesitation. Maisie couldn't pinpoint what was bothering her, but something was.

Jared was now starting to shiver a little, though his long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans was keeping him warmer than Aaren's clothing was. "And you've all been meeting up since then?" He said, keeping up their conversation with the group.

"Yeah." Serge said. "Well, this isn't all of us. There's about twenty two members of this group now. We have a few days like this every month, so that we can all meet up and chat and enjoy ourselves."

"Though many of our members are over sixteen." Tamsin told them, speaking the first full sentence that the trio had heard from her. "We don't get so many kids joining us."

"With me being an exception." Finlay added.

"Yeah, but you don't behave much like a kid, do you?" Serge jested with a cheeky grin.

"That's because I'm not." Finlay told him with a slightly annoyed glare. It seemed that he didn't exactly like Serge, though it was tough for Maisie to tell with their polite conversation.

"Like I said earlier, you're all kids to me." Serge said in his jokey manner. He shifted his legs under the table and leaned back into his chair, reaching his right arm further across his fiancée's shoulder. "So then…" He said, pointing a finger at Jared. "Which one's the lucky lady?"

"What?" Jared asked, confused.

"Your girlfriend." Serge repeated in simple words. "You can't have two…" He paused. "Well… unless you're into that."

Jared, Aaren and Maisie all blushed a different shade of red.

"We're not dating!" Jared insisted, blinking wildly. "They're just friends."

"No?" Serge said with a chuckle. "Well, you could've fooled me."

Paul returned, carrying to trays of drinks, one gripped in each hand. Maisie could not have been more grateful for the distraction. Now she, Jared and Aaren would not have to give an actual answer. The cups and glasses wobbled and sloshed liquids around, yet miraculously none of the drinks spilled. He placed the trays gently down upon the table and began passing them out across the group.

"A black coffee for Gabe. Cappuccino for Katy. English breakfast – Beverage, not meal – for Serge, water for Tamsin..." He turned and passed Maisie a filled, hot mug of steaming dark brown liquid. "And a caramel hot chocolate with whipped cream and pink marshmallows." He announced.

The smell was the first thing Maisie noticed. The rick, dark chocolate scent of the drink made her nerves tingle. It was an aroma that brought back many fond memories of her childhood. And then she saw the content of the mug itself. The cream floated upon the chocolate like clouds upon the sky; light, fluffy and evenly spread out across the liquid's surface. As for the marshmallows…

"They didn't have many pink ones left…" Paul explained. "You got the last. I hope it's not a problem." He gave her a small wink, as if he in on some sort of joke.

Maisie did not see any joke. There were five small, pink coloured marshmallows sat upon the whipped cream, slightly sunken into the foam of the drink. There weren't many things that could be called heavenly, but for Maisie this drink was one of them.

"It's fine." She told him, grinning from ear to ear.

She didn't pay much attention to the conversation that began to unfold around her. She had already lifted the cup off its saucer and pressed it to her lips. She let the hot chocolate slide into her mouth, and she tasted its bitter and sweet flavour. The sensation would never change, no matter how old she got. It always tasted fantastic, no matter who was making it or where it was being made. The mixture of the sweet caramel with the bitter dark chocolate, the addition of the fluffy whipped cream and the chewy marshmallows. This was bliss. She closed her eyes and let the sensation sweep through her.

She opened them a few moments later, and realised that a few members of the group were watching her, chuckling. Had she been doing something odd again? She put the cup down, swallowing the remnants of her drink still in her mouth, and looked away awkwardly. As her senses overcame the strength of the hot chocolate, she overheard a question being proposed by Aaren.

"So, all six of you are Quirkless?" She asked, trying not to speak in a way that might offend any of them.

"Yep." Said Gabe. "All six of us. Born that way, and never changed."

"That must be really tough." She continued.

"It can be." Paul explained. "Sometimes it can feel like everyone's out to get us. Even the government's put laws in the way, to stop us living normal lives. But we all get buy. Sometimes we just need to spend time with other people who understand that struggle. That's what this group is for."

"Gabe mentioned that you started the Odd Crowd." Jared said, wanting to get involved in the conversation.

"I did." Paul said with a proud smile. "I started it one year and four months ago. We've been meeting up twice a month ever since then."

"But why did you start this group." Jared asked with curiosity. "It sounds like it would be a hassle."

Paul shrugged. "Not really. I've actually enjoyed these meetings. It's a lot of fun getting to spend time with people like myself." He suddenly looked a little sadder. "Not everyone knows how tough it can be, not having a Quirk." He sat up and chuckled awkwardly. "Most people don't know what it's like having to carry around a Quirkless card all the time."

"What are Quirkless Cards for?" Maisie asked, interrupting the conversation.

The group looked at her, and for a moment she felt uncomfortable. Was this the wrong sort of question to ask? She knew a little bit about Quirkless Cards. Jared had shown her his when they first met, but she had never been told what they did, or what they were for. All she knew is that Jared didn't like having one, and from what Paul had just said, it seemed he was of a same mind.

The six members of the odd crowd looked at each other, and slowly they turned back to look at her.

"Well..." Paul said slowly. "They're sort of like the points cards you get at supermarkets… except you don't actually earn any points for using them."

Maisie looked at him with an expression that thoroughly explained how little she understood. Gabe took over and leaned forwards, entering a state that could only be explained as a 'teacher's lecting'.

"You know how everyone goes through a Quirk Registration test at age five?" He said.

Maisie nodded. She remember going through one at that age. It had made her very nervous. There had been a man and a table and a sheet of paper. Her parents had been asked to fill it out, and she had been asked to use her Quirk for the man. It took him a moment to realise what it was, as it did for many people when Maisie was not in the midst of working on one of her projects.

"Yeah." She said.

"Well, if a person is registered as Quirkless, they have to be given a Quirkless Card" Gabe continued. "It sort of acts like a records keeper. It is required by law that all Quirkless people carry one. They're supposed to be used whenever a Quirkless person attempts to spend money or buy anything. It's supposed to keep an eye on our actions. If we don't use them, we can face prosecution. However, some people are rather unkind towards us. If they see that we carry a Quirkless Card they have to right to deny us access to whatever they are offering. It's a screwed up law, but it exists and it's still enacted."

Maisie and Aaren were both looking shocked by this information.

"But why would that be a law?" Aaren asked. "Why would they need to do that? What danger do Quirkless people pose to people with Quirks?"

"Beats me." Paul shrugged. "Maybe they were concerned about something in the past, and they just never got around to revoking it. It's been a law for at least sixty years now. There aren't as many Quirkless people alive today as there were then. The percentage of the population with Quirks has been rising, while the percentage without has been shrinking." He gave a weary exhale. "I suppose someone in government considers us to be out-of-date."

There was a long silence across the table. No one knew how to follow up this conversation. It seemed too personal, too difficult to discuss, and yet to relevant to ignore. Something about the expressions on the six member's faces made Maisie think they had talked about this matter many times. Each of them looked glum, upset.

Then Paul inhaled sharply, and let his lips spread into a smile. "But that's why I formed this group." He stated proudly. "The world out there isn't always nice to us. In all stages of human history, someone has been oppressed, often for utterly pointless reasons. It seems that in this age we are the oppressed… but it's not all awful. "He pulled Tamsin, who was the closest person to him, close and hugged her around the shoulder in comradery. "Cause we have each other!" He stated aloud. "We have this group. We have people we can talk to, people who understand, who have been through similar experiences. That's what keeps us going, through all the bad and tough times. And that's how we make a difference. That's how you change people's minds. It's not as loud or boisterous as a revolutionary, but it's much more lasting and much more worthwhile."

The group were quiet. Maisie, Jared and Aaren were sat in awe at his speech. They had never heard such a statement put into words this way before. The rest of the Odd Crowd were less impressed, however. Evidently they had heard this speech before, but nonetheless they appeared to agree with it.

Tamsin slowly pushed Paul's arm away and slunk back into her corner.

"You can tell he's a politics student, can't you." Serge said with a chuckle. "This is not the first time he's made statements such as that.

"He's got a point, though." Jared muttered to himself. Maisie looked at him, and saw something glimmer in his eyes. Paul's speech had awoke something in his mind, some sort of spark. Maisie didn't know what that spark was, but no doubt she would find out from asking him. It did not seem that anyone else had heard him, however, as they ignored his whispers and instead focused upon the question which Aaren asked next.

"So, are all of you students?" She asked.

The group looked at each other, and then back at her. Each of them gave a nod.

"Gabe, Serge and I go to the same university." Paul explained. "I study politics, while Gabe studies fashion and Serge studies psychology."

"Wow." Aaren muttered, impressed. "And did you all meet through this group?" She asked.

"I've actually known Paul for a few years." Answered Gabe, "but everyone else, yep, we all pretty much met through this group."

"Katy and I met here." Serge told her, giving his fiancée a small squeeze of affection. She squeezed back.

"I got dragged into this." Tamsin said, rolling her eyes.

"No you didn't." Paul told her with a small, jovial chuckle. "Stop being so dramatic."

"And you, Finlay?" Aaren asked, turning her attention to the quiet teenager in the seat to her left. He looked back at her, and for a moment his eyes moved across to Jared.

"I'm studying business at Makra Sixth Form College." He told them. "I met Tamsin at a party, and she introduced me to the group."

Tamsin looked away, and for the first time showed a small hint of an emotion other than annoyance or boredom. She was trying not to blush.

"So what do you three do then?" Gabe asked, turning the attention back to the three visitors.

"We study together at Broadhurst Academy." Jared explained.

"Don't think I know that one." Paul said, thinking.

Jared looked away, uncomfortable. Maisie wasn't sure why he was embarrassed to tell them about where he was studying. She had expected it to be the other way around. They probably would be really excited to hear that he was training to become a hero.

"It's a… uh…" Jared muttered. "It's a… newly formed… hero academy."

The Odd Crowd looked at him, unblinking.

"Oh." Said Paul, a mixture of surprised, confused and slightly impressed. "Cool."

"So then you three are training to become heroes?" Katy asked.

"Yeah. That's how I found out about this group." Jared explained. "One of our teachers is the hero Ravenhead. He told me about you guys, and suggested I come visit."

There was a momentary pause, as the six members of the Odd Crowd all looked at each other. Maisie couldn't quite tell what the expression on their faces was supposed to be. It was too subtle to pinpoint, but it didn't seem especially positive. They then looked back, and put on a series of hopeful smiles that masked a more pessimistic opinion.

"Well, good luck." Paul told him. "That's quite impressive, to get accepted into a hero course while also being Quirkless. You must have really impressed them."

Maisie supposed that this was a complement, certainly to Jared it would be. So why did they all look so glum. She noticed Finlay glancing at him, looking weariest of the six. Jared was staring back, though he quickly looked away, uncomfortable.

Time passed quickly after that. The conversation started back up with the group of nine chatting about their courses and their person life, their goals and aspirations, their reasons for being a part of the Odd Crowd social group. Maisie became so enwrapped in the conversation that she barely noticed that two hours had passed. Outside it was starting to get dark. The weather had picked up once more, and now it was raining. The café was now empty, except for the Odd Crowd and its visitors. Even some of the members had left by this point. Serge and Katy had decided to walk back to their flat, and Gabe had gone with them, as his house was not far from theirs. Tamsin had made a stop at the bathroom, and Paul had stepped outside to smoke. Aaren had decided to grab herself a hot chocolate before they left, having been tempted by the one Maisie had drank earlier. That left Jared, Maisie and Finlay at the empty table. The three of them sat quietly, not meeting each other's gaze. They sat this way for some time. Then Finlay broke the silence.

"So you managed it after all?" He asked. It seemed that the question was aimed at Jared, as he responded before Maisie could ask what he meant.

"Yeah." He said simply.

"Good." Finlay said. "I'm happy for you."

Maisie felt that his words were not truthful. Something about his tone seemed untruthful, like he was telling Jared what he wanted to hear. It was possible that he was just tired, but if he was lying then he was doing a poor job at hiding it.

A moment later he spoke up once more. "I'm surprise. I didn't think you would ever be accepted."

"You doubted me?" Jared asked.

Finlay chuckled. "A little. I mean, it is you."

Jared gave him a questioning look, still smiling. "What do you mean by that?" He inquired, brows narrowing slightly.

Finlay shrugged. "I don't know." Another pause, then he said "Well, it's just that I had to try several colleges before one would accept me, and I'm only studying business. It's not the sort of subject that would require a Quirk. But you…" He shrugged. "Somehow you did the impossible. You got accepted onto a hero course. Okay, so it's free, and it's for people who wouldn't make it on an actual course…"

"I made a good impression." Jared said quickly, interrupting his old friend's comment. "They liked me enough to give me a chance. I'm by no means their top student, but I've been doing alright for now."

Finlay rubbed his chin, his fingers scratching at his skin. It looked like he was annoyed by something, other than the itching sensation on his lower jaw. He sighed and turned sharply to Jared.

"Did your dad get involved?" He asked, with the stern and intrusive tone of a medieval inquisitor.

Jared looked at him in shock. "Him? No. He was completely against it. In fact he's done everything he can to ruin my chances of succeeding at the academy. He isn't even willing to drive me there and back. I have to walk most days."

"I was just wonder, because he arranged your placement at secondary school, and I imagine it was the same for your primary school wasn't it."

Jared blinked, staring back at him in shock. "Where is this coming from?"

"I was just thinking…" Finlay muttered, placing his hands together upon the table. This entire time of talking he had not turned to look at Jared once. "The last time we spoke, you had just failed your third attempt at passing the sports exam, yet you were still determined to become a hero… And then suddenly you're leaving school to join an unknown and newly founded academy in the western outskirts of the city. I can't help but wonder what happened." He closed his eyes, and muttered in a mistrusting voice, "People don't just go from being a Quirkless nobody to an aspiring trainee hero overnight."

Jared glared at him with an astonished and offended expression. "What are you trying to get at, Fin?" He enquired, defensively.

Finlay's eyes shifted towards Jared, and as a result towards Maisie as well. She could see in his stare the hints of envy, of regret, of disapproval. The human eye was especially useful for conveying emotion, though often it did so by accident. While Maisie struggled to pick up on social cues and facial expressions sometimes, she could just about tell what was going on behind his gaze

Finlay made an odd gesture with his hands, as if he was struggling to think of what was actually bothering him. He finally exhaled in frustration, and closed his eyes. "You asked me that same day why I don't stand up for myself." He said with recollection. "And I told you that it made things easier for me. It's not uncommon. A lot of people think that way. It's normal to dislike confrontation."

"And you think that's what I should do?" Jared interrupted. "If everyone thought that way, nothing would ever get done."

"But most people _aren't_ Quirkless." Finlay reminded him. "Most people don't have a set up bullshit laws restricting you from living an average life, free of additional hustle and demand. Most people don't have these fucking cards!" As he stated this he ripped his own Quirkless card free from his wallet and threw it down upon the table. "When the world is the way it is, and we are the way we are, sometimes there are risks that we just can't take. Sometimes, when you have a junk hand of cards, it's better to fold and accept the loss then raise the bet and hope to bluff your way through."

"When have you tried taking any risks… ever?" Jared demanded. "You just sit at the back of the class, letting the world go by. You won't even take the risk of making friends, even that's too frightening for you."

"I'm perfectly capable of making friends." Finlay insisted. "I'm quite happy by myself."

"Yeah, I'm sure you are." Jared muttered viciously. Maisie hadn't seen this sort of anger coming from Jared before. She knew that he could get grumpy, as he had done so a few times when he was stressed or struggling with a lesson, but this was more than just a simple, momentary annoyance. This conversation was enraging him him.

"We're outnumbered, Jared." Finlay said, in a tone that suggested he was repeating something he had said many times before. "We have been ever since we were born, and we always will be. We are not like our fathers. We can't just put on a spandex suit and cape and run about fighting crime and expect people to suddenly change their minds. People won't respect us just because we demand it! I figured that out a long time ago. Why can't you just accept that?"

Maisie was starting to feel frightened. Jared was completely consumed by his anger, and she didn't know what to do. Should she get involved? Should she try and stop the fight? Should she side with Jared, or side against him? How bad was this argument going to get, and how quickly would it get that bad?

"And what, you'd want me to just give up on the one dream I've had in my entire life?" Jared shouted, no restriction upon the volume or tone of his voice.

"People won't suddenly start respecting you because you're a hero." Finlay told him coldly. "No matter how strong you get, or how famous, they will still see you as Quirkless. Do you think people would cheer for you? No, they would doubt you, or mock you. You would be a joke to them, as if we aren't already."

"I don't care about how people see me!" Jared snapped, striking his fist against the table. This caught the attention of several barristers cleaning the tables and counters, and of Aaren who was just collecting her drink and paying for it. "I don't care about fame, or fortune, or recognition, or a stupid rank number! I don't care about being the number one hero! I only care about being _a_ hero!"

The moment he stopped talking the room went quiet. Not even the hum of a passing fly could create any sound to disrupt this blockade of silence.

Finlay's head hung slowly, and he leaned slowly forwards in his seat. Then he stood up, and neatly slid his chair underneath the table.

"Have you thought, even for a moment, how you might depict Quirkless people?" He asked in quiet voice.

"I don't care what people think of me." Jared repeated.

"But others do." Finlay snapped, his brow narrowed. "Do you have any real reason to become a hero, other than to prove that you can?"

Jared opened his mouth to speak… and suddenly paused. His expression slowly fell, as if his mind was stuck. It seemed, to Maisie's genuine surprise, that Jared did not have an answer to that question.

Finlay shook his head. "I didn't think so." He muttered. "There are many legitimate reasons for why a person would want to become a hero, but there are very few who aim for this goal simply because they can and actually achieve it." He folded his arms tightly across his chest. "If, by some miracle, you did manage to graduate from your academy, and become an actual, legitimate, professional hero, you would be in the eyes of the media. Imagine if your lack of a motive caused you to fail one of your duties. Imagine if someone died because of it. How would the media portray you? And then imagine if they know that you're Quirkless, and they see your thoughtless actions, your lack of motive. What would they think of other Quirkless people? In becoming the first Quirkless hero you could destroy any hope there is of actually improving the treatment of Quirkless citizens."

He walked away from the table, but stopped as he passed Jared. He didn't turn to acknowledge him, yet spoke in a voice loud enough for only him and Maisie to hear.

"They will never see us as equals, Jared." He said solemnly, all hint of anger now gone from his voice. "No matter what we do, they will use it against us. It's pointless to even try anymore. It's better to just give up and move on."

Jared didn't watch him leave. In retrospect Maisie thought that this was probably a good idea. He was still fuming, with smoke practically escaping his nostrils. If he had turned around, he would have seen Paul and Finlay chatting outside of the window, and Paul giving him a comforting hug. Maisie wasn't sure what was going out there in the cold dark, but it was better for now that Jared did not see it.

Aaren returned to the table, Jared's hoodie tied around her waist and a hot cup of chocolate in her left hand. She looked at the bother of them, and then at the door. "What was that about?" She asked.

Jared looked away, huffing with annoyance. "Nothing." He muttered.

Aaren was clearly not fooled. She could tell as well as Maisie could that something was bothering him. Jared was not especially good at covering it up. She had hoped that after the combat exam he would be happier, especially since his talk with Ravenhead had clarified a lot of things for him. Thinking about it, he hadn't actually told any of his friends what the hero had said. The only thing that Maisie knew was that he had pointed Jared towards the Odd Crowd. He probably hadn't been expecting the night to end like this.

Jared reached out and gently pulled his hoodie free from around Aaren's waist, tugging at one of the arms till it came loose. She gave him a mildly awkward stare as he breached her personal space, but made no actual fuss about it. He was clearly not in the mood.

"I think…" Jared said as he slid his arms into the blue hoodie, and flicked the hood up so that it covered his face. Maisie knew this was bad. The only times he put the hood up indoors was when he was unhappy. "…that it's time we went home."

* * *

It was ten to six when the trio walked out of café. By then the sun had completely set, leaving only a purple line upon the horizon. It was tough to see it past the towering buildings. Paul was still outside, finishing what remained of his cigarette. He let it drop to the floor and put it out with his heel right as the trio exited.

"We're heading off." Jared told him, now having calmed down a little from his earlier rage.

"So soon?" Paul said with a small grin. "Well, I hope you enjoyed yourselves. Can we expect to see you come back?"

"Maybe." Jared told him. "If I can find the time. We've got an exam at the end of the month which we need to prepare for."

"Good luck with that." Paul told him honestly. "I hear those hero training courses can be pretty harsh." He extended a hand, which Jared shook. "It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise." Jared told him.

Paul went back inside the café as they left. They heard the glass door clank shut behind him. Now the three of them were alone, walking the pavement of the dark street back towards the square. The wind had only grown stronger and colder. The sky was covered with black clouds, though no rain had fallen yet. They were unusually quiet. Maisie supposed that this was to be expected. Jared's outburst had shocked her quite a bit, and although Aaren hadn't been listening to most of his rant it was also clear that she was concerned by it. They continued to walk in silence, right up until they returned to the square where they had met only two hours before.

"I'll be heading of then." Aaren said, stopping and turning to the other two. "Thanks for inviting me along."

Jared smiled awkwardly back at her. "I think you invited yourself." He said with a chuckle.

Aaren laughed back. "Nonetheless, I had a good time."

"Will you be okay?" Jared asked. "It's really cold."

"I'll manage." She said with a sharp shiver. "See you both on Monday."

When Aaren was halfway down the opposite street, disappearing into the night, Maisie allowed herself to sigh. She didn't have to feel so uncomfortable with her there anymore. Jared turned to her.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah." She responded. In truth she wasn't. Though the day had been mostly good, the argument that had ended it was still bothering her. There was also the issue of Aaren being with them. She didn't like it. Why had she come with them? What reason did she have to be there? She hadn't been awful company, but her presence made Maisie very uncomfortable. Something about how she talked to Jared made her blood boil.

Jared looked at her with suspicion. "You've seemed a little grumpy today." He told her, not quite as tactful as he could have been.

"Says the guy who just had an argument with a friend he hasn't spoken to in months." She said.

She realised half a second later that a comment like that may hurt Jared, which was not her intention at all, but thankfully he seemed to find it funny. He chuckled and nodded his head in admittance.

"Yeah, you got me there." He told her, smiling weakly. Though he was putting on a brave face, she could tell that his fight with Finlay was bothering him a lot. She supposed that she would also feel pretty bad if a similar thing happened between her and Jared. She hoped that would never happen. She wanted him to always be her friend.

"I'm just tired." Maisie told him reassuringly. "I'm not usually out for this long."

"Me neither." Jared admitted. He shuffled his feet, then he asked, "How are you getting home?"

"I texted my dad as we left. He'll be here to pick me up in about fifteen minutes."

Jared nodded. "If you'd asked I would've walked you home." He suggested, chuckling once more.

Maisie chuckled back, but in the recesses of her mind a venomous thought was stirring. Unfortunately, due to her lack of experience with social communication, Maisie wasn't aware that airing this thought could have a negative situation for her. So, unaware as she was, she uttered the next sentence.

"I'm surprised you didn't offer Aaren the same thing." She muttered.

Jared raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What?" He asked.

"Considering how much time you two spend with each other." She continued.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jared asked, growing defensive once more, just as he had when Finlay had judged his life choices.

"What do you see in her anyway?" She demanded, her words full of more venom than a cobra's fangs.

"What?" Jared repeated, now thoroughly bewildered.

Maisie was suddenly angry. Why didn't he understand? How much did she have to hint it? Would she have to state it out loud?

"She doesn't know you as well as I do." Maisie snapped, trying not to cry. Her emotions were at an unusual high. "She's not your best friend! I'm your best friend! She's trying to destroy that!"

Jared looked completely lost. To him, Maisie was speaking in a foreign language which he had never learned.

"What are you talking about?" He asked. "Aaren doesn't want to replace you as my friend. I can be friends with two different girls, can't I?"

Maisie wiped her eyes. "I'm scared that she'll take you away from me." She admitted, doing everything she could to stop the sobs. "It's not fair. You're the only real friend I've ever had, but she talks to you more than I do now. Ever since the both of you met, you've been training together and chatting during lunch. You and I never do that sort of stuff. She's trying to replace me as your best friends, and I can bare it!"

Maisie had begun to breakdown into sobbing, shuddering, unintelligible mutters. All Jared could do was look at her with pity and sympathy.

"Maisie… I'm sorry that you feel that way." He said.

Maisie let her hands slide down her face, revealing her red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Her sobs began to fade to a whimper.

"I don't want her to become your new best friends." She whimpered. "I don't want you to start ignoring me."

Jared looked at her apologetically. "That's not going to happen." He insisted. "No matter what, you will still be my friend."

"Promise?" Maisie asked.

Jared crossed his heart with a finger. "Promise." He said.

This was at least a little relieving for Maisie. One of her biggest concerns was now open and out of the way. She trusted Jared to keep his promise. He hadn't given her any reason yet to distrust him.

"Why are you afraid that Aaren's going to replace you as my friend?" Jared asked, still confused upon that detail.

"Isn't that what usually happens?" Maisie said uncertainly. "When a boy and a girl start spending time with each other."

A light suddenly switched on in Jared's brain. "You mean dating?" He asked.

Maisie nodded. "Yeah. I thought that was what happened with most couples."

Jared shook his head quickly. "I'm not interested in Aaren." He told her quickly. "I mean, she's a nice girl, and she's not exactly bad looking, but I don't feel that way towards her."

It was now Maisie's turn to be surprised. "Really?" She asked.

"Honest." Jared said. "I don't feel that way about any of the girls in our class. It's not that they're ugly, I'm just interested in them like that."

Maisie felt a massive weight being lifted of her chest. This was the most relieving thing she could have been told. In a few words Jared had shed light upon all of her fears and doubts. In a mere moment the pent-up jealousy and anxiety she had been feeling towards Aaren Whitley suddenly vanished.

"I'm surprised you even thought that was happening." Jared said, almost chuckling about it. "Have you never felt that way about a guy?"

"No." Maisie said, innocently.

Jared turned to her. "Really?" He said. "Not even once. Not even some hot bodybuilding celebrity, or some random guy at the back of the class?"

"Never." Maisie told him.

Jared looked away, and for a moment he seemed to be disappointed. Then, after a long exhale, he quickly turned back to her. "Then are you…" He shrugged. "…well, you know… into other girls?"

Maisie almost gagged at the suggestion. "Yuck, no!" She explained, not considering how offensive her reaction may seem.

Jared blinked, his confusion returning once more. "Then… who are you interested in?" He asked.

"No one." Maisie told him.

"So you've never felt attracted to anyone?" Jared inquired, "Not even a momentary crush?"

"No." Said Maisie. "That's not strange, is it?"

Jared gave her a look that suggested it was, though it didn't quite clarify to Maisie why it was strange. To her this was normal. She knew that other girls would talk about boys they found attractive. She had been hearing it for the last four years or so. But she had always found that behaviour strange. They were just boys. What was so special about boys? She felt that she would never understand what attracted one gender to the other is such a way, yet apparently it was considered normal.

Jared seemed to be puzzling over how to word his next sentence. Evidently he didn't want to offend her, but he also wanted to be honest. "It's not exactly usual." He said. "Most people have those feelings, for either the opposite or same gender. There's nothing wrong with either. I don't think I've ever met anyone who stated they had no interest in either."

"Do you think I'm ill?" Maisie asked with concern.

"No." Jared told her quickly, not wanting her to think that about herself. "That's just how you are. Honestly you might be lucky. You're not having to deal with those emotions all the time like the rest of us."

"I'm glad you don't think it's a problem." Maisie said, giving him a hopeful smile. Jared returned it.

"It doesn't bother me what you feel." He told her honestly. "No matter what, at the end of the day you're still my friend, and I need to start keeping the few I have."

They stood there in silence for almost a minute after that, the cold wind blowing through their hair and across their bare skin.

"Would you like to sleepover at my house?" Maisie asked suddenly. "I know it's sudden, but you said you did want to spend more time with me. I was honestly thinking of asking you over for a while now."

Jared looked at her in surprise, but after a moment of thought he began to smile.

"Yeah." He said, grinning. "That's be nice." Then he paused and asked, "Would your parents be okay with me staying over?"

"I've never really had anyone stay the night before." She admitted. "But I'm sure I can persuade my dad to allow it."

Her father arrived ten minutes later, and by the time he had pulled his car up to the side of the road, Maisie was already at the door to the passenger's seat. She quickly pulled it open and leaned in.

"Hey dad, could Jared stay over at our place for the night?" She asked quickly and tactlessly.

Her father looked at her with annoyed disbelief. "Maisie, you can't just suddenly have a friend come over for the night." He explained to her, kindly but firmly. "The house hasn't been prepared, and there isn't anywhere for him to sleep."

"Please, dad." She pestered, pouting pleadingly. "He would really like to come over."

"I'm fine with sleeping on the sofa." Jared interrupted, hoping to resolve the situation as neatly as he could. Maisie's father was holding his ground however.

"What about his parents. Do they know he wants to stay over?"

Maisie turned back to Jared, who looked back with an awkward stare. "I'll text them on the way." He said quickly, as he patted his pocket and remembered his mobile phone. "I don't think my dad will mind very much."

"Please, Dad. He has to walk home otherwise." Maisie persisted.

Mr Collard looked back at his daughter, who was still pouting, and gave a resigned sigh. "Well, I can't really leave him in the cold." He pointed a finger at his Maisie. "But you have to arrange where he's sleeping, and if his parent's complain about where he's been you'll have to explain it to them."

Maisie nodded in agreement. This arrangement was reasonable. She slid into the passenger seat, and gestured for Jared to enter the back. He did so, and fastened his seat belt, as Mr Collard started the car again.

It had been an interesting day, Maisie reflected. She didn't usually get to spend time in town with her friends, mainly because she didn't usually have friends. She hoped that they would get more days to spend with each other. There probably wouldn't be any for a while, however. The Criminal Apprehension exam was two weeks away, and she would have to prepare. She already had a new gadget in mind for Jared. She just had to make sure it was done by then.


	21. Chapter 19 - Criminal Apprehension Exam

**Aaren Whitley**

* * *

She felt the striking of his foot upon her forearm. With an exertion of effort she shoved the leg away, causing him to tumble and fall onto his back. Jared Wreath hit the floor hard, one leg stretched out in retaliation. His bare toes nearly caught her in the eye, though she was fortunate enough to lean back and avoid losing an eyeball.

"Much better." Aaren said, smiling down upon him. "You actually landed it that time. I think a few more tries and you might be able to work out the balancing issue, too."

Jared rolled over, and was onto his knees seconds later. She had noticed that he was getting quicker at recovering. When they had first started training it had taken him close to a minute before he was back onto his feet. Now it didn't take much longer than five seconds. He had achieved that in a month. She was impressed by how much effort he had started to put into his training. Since the combat exam, Jared had been much more eager to keep trying. He had gone from whining and demanding time to rest to knuckling down and continuing to train even when exhausted. Aaren found it admirable. She had not seen any of their other classmates putting in such a serious effort.

"I wasn't expecting you to shove me." He admitted, wiping dust off his trouser leg.

"You should have." She said with a sly grin. "I've told you before, your opponent won't warn you of their attacks." She raised a finger. "What's the first thing someone being stuck by a roundhouse kick is going to think of doing?"

Jared thought for a moment. "Block?" He suggested.

"And after that?" She persisted.

Jared thought for a bit longer. "Uhh… kick them back?" He suggested.

Aaren raised an eyebrow. "Sure, then the both of you lose balance and end up falling over. Now you've gotten yourself into a different sort of trouble." She held up her arm and pointed to her elbow with her other hand. "More often than not the attack will sacrifice their balance to land a kick. As suck, the best way to respond, if they are not already aiming another attack, is to push back against their kick, or grab their leg if you can. Nine times out of ten they won't be prepared for it, and they'll topple over."

Jared nodded in understand. "I'll try to remember that." He said quietly.

While Jared was preparing himself to continue their training, Aaren grabbed a bottle of water from the side of the room and took a few quick sips. The both of them were currently training in the dojo on the first floor of the main building at Broadhurst Heroism Academy. It was a Friday night, so the classes for the day had already ended, but the teachers had allowed them to stay for a few hours and train. Some of them had to stay behind till late to deal with paperwork anyway, so the both of them were given permission to use the room for a maximum of two hours. Occasionally one of the teachers still on sight would come and check on them, just to make sure everything was okay. This arrangement had been going on for almost three weeks, and every day after their final lesson, the both of them would make their way to the room.

Aaren turned back around to see Jared stretching, attempting to loosen his muscles and prepare for the further exercise he would be performing. They had been taught a few methods during their PE lessons about warming up before exercise. It was surprising the amount they had learned about physical health while studying to become heroes.

As she watched him stretch his arms out as far as they could go while bending his knees and breathing slowly in and out, she couldn't help but feel a weird kind of pride in him. She hadn't known what to expect from him when they first started working together. At first he had whined a lot, constantly asking for breaks and requesting that she go easy on him. She was worried that this would continue for the entirety of their work together. Then they had been faced with the Combat Exam, and after that he had changed. Now he was putting in twice the effort, and doing as much as he could within the hours he had to improve. His body was getting thinner, packing on more muscle. The change to his shape was barely noticeable at first, but week by week it became more evident. It wasn't just a physical change either. His mentality was different. He went into each lesson with an optimistic view, no matter how pessimistic everything have seemed beforehand. He tried to look at everything with a more hopeful outlook. He pushed himself to keep going, even when he was tired. He had not completely succeeded in keeping this up all the time, but with each day this mentality was lasting longer. The strangest part to Aaren was that she had no idea where it had come from. Maybe it was something Ravenhead had said to him.

"Hey Aaren." Jared said suddenly, still performing his warm up exercises.

"Yeah?" She said, letting the water bottle swing from the grip of two pinching fingers.

He paused after his twelfth jumping jack, and looking at her with an awkward expression. "Why did you come with us the other day?" He asked.

Aaren looked back at him. She hadn't been expecting that question. "I told you why." She said. "I thought it would be interesting to meet other Quirkless people."

"Is that all?" He asked.

Aaren was surprised by his persistence. She wasn't sure where this sudden lack of trust was coming from. She had been mostly honest with him since they're met and started working together. Was it so wrong for her to want to support him outside of the academy?

But then Aaren suppose that his suspicion was deserved. Because the truth was that she had not been completely truthful with him. There were some things she just didn't feel comfortable talking about, even with Jared. But he was beginning to question her actions, wondering why she would go to so much effort for him. He had asked similar questions when they first met, and she had given him her usual vague answers, but now that was not enough. He wanted the truth, and so it was only fair that Aaren gave it to him. She hoped that she would not come to regret it.

"Because there's someone very important in my life." She explained. "And, like yourself, they were born without a Quirk."

Jared looked at her with curious eyes. Considering the subject matter he was understandably compassionate. "Who?" He asked in a quiet, respectful voice.

Aaren sighed. This was the moment she had been hoping to avoid. She didn't like talking about her personal life for this very reason. People just don't need to know about it. But she had come to know Jared well over the last few months. They had studied together, trained together, and now they had spent time outside of the academy together. There were very few people in the world she would ever consider putting her trust in. Jared was one of those people.

"My mother." She said.

Jared's eyebrows raised higher up his forehead, as he was taken by surprise by her words. Of all the people in her life, he was one of the few who truly understood what this meant.

"Your mother's Quirkless?" He repeated, his voice a hushed whisper.

Aaren nodded in confirmation. It wasn't easy to admit it, no matter who she was admitting it to.

He looked downward, apologetically. "I didn't know."

"It's okay." Aaren told him quickly, putting on a smile. "It's not that big of a deal, but most people aren't especially understanding, so I don't usually tell them."

She could see a small flicker of privilege in Jared's face. He had caught on to the fact that she must have some form of respect for him if she was willing to share this knowledge with him. Then a lightbulb above Jared's head suddenly illuminated. It was ironically appropriate that the area of the gym he was standing in happened to have faulty lighting, and that said lighting had only now decided to work properly.

"Is that why you wanted to help me?" He asked. "Because I'm also Quirkless?"

"You remind me a lot of her." Aaren told him with a small, proud smile. "You both have that same determination, that unwillingness to let any barriers stand in your way. You put up with the shit thrown at you by life and kept going. I find it rather inspirational." She paused, suddenly realising that her complement made it sound as if this fact was the only admirable feature of Jared's personality. "But don't take it the wrong way. Even if I didn't know you were Quirkless, I would probably have thought you were a good guy."

She felt a little irritated with herself in saying that, because she knew it wasn't true. The first time she had seen Jared, she had assumed he was an egotistical rich boy purely because he was the son of the country's number one hero. She only decided to give him a chance after learning that he was Quirkless. If she hadn't realised this she would never have gotten to know what he was actually like. It was chance that she learned about his situation early on, and this made Aaren realise how cold-hearted her judgmental attitude could be.

But it wasn't just Jared who had been maliciously scrutinized within her mind. She had harboured such thoughts about every other members of the class as well, even their teachers, the headmistress and the members of the senior class had been viciously judged by her, based upon nothing more than their exterior. Even someone as innocent and kind-hearted as Maisie Collard had been looked at with unkind eyes. This was a trait gifted down to her by her father, and because of it Aaren had been hesitant to let herself befriend them. In her mind at the time, her judgments were true. These people were the way she saw them. It was only now she realised that she was wrong. Jared and Maisie were nothing like she had originally thought. If that was the case, what had she mistaken about the other members of the class? Could she even pluck up the courage to face them with those thoughts in her mind? It had been so tough to accept that she was wrong. When it came to a physical confrontation she knew what she was doing… but with human relationships she had no idea where to start.

Jared had looked away from her, trying to hide a small, prideful smile. Aaren supposed that he wasn't often complemented, especially because of his lack of a Quirk. He turned back a few seconds later, not meeting her gaze.

"Well, it's nice to know I inspired someone." He muttered, his voice cracking with an unusual happiness. Then he asked, "So what does your mother do?"

Aaren blinked. She hadn't expected him to be that interested. She thought that he would stop the conversation after that, but she hadn't expect him to be curious about her Quirkless parent. "Well…" She began, only to pause and think of what to tell him. Of course her mother had her own life to lead, but she was trying to think of what would be useful – or appropriate – to say. "She started her own crafts store in the Oodd district." She told him. "Which she manages by herself. It's small and doesn't make much money, but it was something she achieved by herself."

"That's impressive." Jared told her.

"Yeah." Aaren agreed, smiling once more with pride for her parent.

"I can understand why she would inspire you." He said.

Aaren's smile faltered. She considered whether she should tell him more, about what had occurred between her mother and father… why she didn't see her mother so often anymore.

"Do both your parents have Quirks?" She asked him.

"Obviously my dad does." Jared told her. "I'm not actually sure what my Dad's Quirk does, though. He's very secretive about it. I don't think anyone knowns."

Aaren certainly couldn't recall a time where she had seen or heard of the Progenitor using his Quirk. It was generally acknowledged that he did have one. How could he not? He was the number one hero. There was no way he could keep that title for so long, and retain such a respectable and effective career if he didn't have a substantially powerful Quirk. The trouble was nobody actually knew what his Quirk did. Some theorised that it was a form of teleportation, as on many occasions he seemed to appear out of nowhere while no one was looking. Others suggested that he was omnipotent, as if he were some kind of god, as he seemed to know everything that was happening at all times. No one had ever witnessed him making any sort of a mistake, not even a slight trip up or blunder. Every punch he made hit its mark, every dodge avoided his attacker, and every action resulted in success. It was not hard to believe that the man could be a god.

"My mum had a Quirk." He continued, snapping Aaren from her trail of thought. "She could mimic sounds, like a parrot. My sister inherited her Quirk, obviously I remain Quirkless, and Julian…" He paused, a sudden thought striking him. "I don't know. I think he has a Quirk. Dad said he does… but I've never seen his either."

Aaren didn't have a response for this. It was odd that two members of his family who claimed to have Quirks would stay so quiet about it. Often people with Quirks were very eager to vocalise what theirs did, as if to show of how unique they were. Aaren's Quirk was not unique to her. She had inherited hers from her father, as had her brother, and apparently it had run through the family since her great grandfather.

"Were your parent's close?" She asked.

Jared didn't respond for a moment. His expression portrayed a cascade of emotion flooding through his mind. Aaren struggled to pinpoint just what it was he was feeling, but seemed to be a concoction of grief, uncertainty and loneliness.

"I think so." He said eventually. "I don't remember to well. She died when I was seven."

Jared had already told her this. He had his own personal issues which he chose to tell only to those he trusted. He had told Aaren this fact a week after the Combat Exam, a few days before they visited the Odd Crowd. She couldn't imagine the sort of grief he went though at that moment. She had been fortunate enough to not lose anyone close to her in such a sudden and heart-breaking way, but nonetheless she felt sorry for him. However, she did have her own emotional baggage that she preferred to hide from the world. Now it was her time to tell it to him.

"Mine used to be." She told him quietly. "I remember them being happy once, when I was very young. But that slowly changed. Then, one day… my mother moved out, and didn't come back."

"She left you?" Jared said in shock.

"Not by choice." Aaren explained. "When I was twelve, my mother and father got divorced. It was just something that happened. They had been slowly moving apart for years, but I hadn't seen any of that. All I knew was that my mother had left us, and nobody would tell me why."

"I'm sorry." Jared told her sympathetically. He gave her a empathetic nod. "You don't have to say any more if it upsets you."

But Aaren wanted to say more. It was helping to air these feeling out in this way. She had never opened up to anyone before. It was strangely relieving. It had felt as if she was carrying a mountain upon her back, and now she was placing the weight of that mountain upon the reliable and sturdy back of another for support.

"I'm fine." She said, sniffing slightly. "I've lived with my dad since then. He used to tell me that my mother was hopeless, that he couldn't help her, or support her, or change her. At first I thought it was her fault that they had split up, and I hated her for it. But then I went to see her about three months later, and she told me her side of the story. She sat me down and spoke to me as if I were an adult. She explained that she needed space to make decisions for herself, to try and achieve her dreams in life. She felt stranded, unable to go anywhere, and she still had a dream to reach for. My parent's divorce was a mutual decision, not an act of hatred between the two. That didn't mean I was happy about it, though. It's only as the years have passed that I realise it was a decision for the best. Both my parents are happier by themselves. My mum finally succeeded in achieving her dream of opening her own store, and my dad no longer had to fear for her."

Jared stood quietly, listening to her story. Aaren had not seen him pay attention to her in this way before. It was nice, just being able to speak, just being able to get rid of this horrible weight.

"I suppose looking back that it was a good thing for the both of them." She considered. "They're both happy where they are. My mum owns her own crafts shop, and my dad's a professional martial arts teacher. I wish I could see it that way when I was younger. I might not have such a screwed up view of relationships now."

The both of them stood there, blinking, not speaking. After some time had passed, Jared exhaled and stretched. "You've surprised me, you know that?"

Aaren narrowed her brow. "In what way?"

"When we first met I thought you were a cold, stubborn bitch." He said, almost laughing.

"Thanks." Aaren said with a straight face, but deep down she was rather offended.

He only smiled back, as if what he had just said didn't matter. "Well, I'll have to eat my words." He admitted with a grin. "Because I do believe you just said something personal. Of all the things I expected from you, Ms Whitley, it was not that."

Aaren looked at him. She wasn't sure whether to blush with anger or blush with embarrassment. Either was, she was certainly blushing. She looked away from him, folding her arms.

"Looks like you need to work on your complements as well as your balance." She muttered.

He laughed, and much to her own disgrace she laughed with him.

"I suppose we've done enough for today." She told him, shaking her head to try and knock away her grin. "I think you're almost ready for the next exam, we'll continue with this tomorrow."

"But it's a Friday tomorrow."

"I know, but we need the time to practice." She nodded at him. "I'll arrange a time with Aries, and then I'll message you."

He picked up his blue hoodie from the side of the dojo, and slid his arms into it. Aaren stared at his back. He was getting thinner. His hoodie seemed a size too big for him now.

"And Jared." She said.

Jared turned back to her. "Yeah."

She smiled once more, her cheeks a light pink shade. "Thank you."

He smiled back, his cheeks a similar shade of pink. "You're welcome." He responded.

* * *

That had been three days ago.

Now Aaren was standing at the gates of a massive wall, not as big as the London Wall but certainly taller than the one which surrounded BHA. This was the entrance to the location of the Criminal Apprehension exam; a large enclosed circle of buildings that spanned a whole kilometre. According to the many signs she had seen on the way to the site, this was one of several hero training arenas, the sort used by more renowned academies for training scenarios. It seemed that Broadhurst Heroism Academy had been able to rent one out for the day.

There was only a minute left till the exam began, and the students of Class Junior were gathered in waiting at the gate. With them were the ten students of Class Senior. Aaren had noticed them around the academy from time to time, but most of the time the two classes were separated. The Senior Class had a different timetable of lessons, they didn't even have lunch at the same time. Now it appeared the two classes would conjoined for the exam. The two different generations would be mixed together. The few who Aaren did recognise she knew from the Self-Defence classes, though she hadn't spoken to them personally. Those few she had already seen before were probably the most normal looking members of their class. Quirks could have interesting effects upon the look of a person, most people knew that. Yet she found herself in awe of one older student, who had a body made completely of a pale brown mid-like material. He stood at least eight feet tall, with muscular arms and legs and a wide torso. The shirt he was wearing seemed stretched beyond the point it should rip. The shorts were in no better condition. She wondered how long it took him to dress in the morning, and whether he even bothered owning any other clothes. The other dramatically unusual looking member of Class Senior was a young woman with light grey skin and wild, unkempt white hair which erupted from her head like a mushroom cloud. There was no way someone like her could be human. No human could be that skinny. The skin-tight V-neck shirt she was wearing did little to hide her protruding ribs. She had inverted coloured eyes, with black sclera, white pupils, and bright yellow irises.

Aaren felt a little bad for staring at them. They didn't seem especially bad or unlikable, but like with Jared and her fellow classmates she had already made judgments upon their character.

There was a general, unintelligible mutter of conversation around her, and the waiting students eagerly or nervously discussed the upcoming exam. Jared stood next to her, his arms delving deep into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Nervous?" She asked.

He turned to her and nodded, keeping his hands inside the warm fabric. "You?" He asked in return.

Aaren shrugged. She supposed she was nervous, though she wasn't quite sure why. Physical activity didn't unnerve her, and so far the physical exams at the Academy hadn't made her feel even a little bit of anxiety.

"What do you think we'll be doing?" He continued, turning back towards the large gate ahead of them.

"Dunno." Aaren replied. "Something dramatic probably."

None of the students at Broadhurst Heroism Academy knew what they would be doing for the Criminal Apprehension Exam. The teachers at the academy had been quiet upon that matter. All they had been told was that the test had something to do with apprehending criminals, though this was obvious given the name of the exam. Everything else was a mystery as of yet. Aaren had no doubt that it would all be explained to them soon, though. It was unlikely that they would be thrown into this exam without knowing what to expect, not unless the heroes teaching them were in an especially cruel mood.

"Jared." Came a hushed whisper.

Both her and Aaren turned left, to see Maisie approaching. She had just arrived, with barely a minute to go before the hour of the exam was struck, carrying her bloated schoolbag in both arms.

"I was wondering if you would make it in time." Jared told her with a smile. His eyes turned downwards, looking upon the bag. "Why is your bag so stuffed?" He asked.

Maisie smiled quickly, and gently lowered her back to the ground, where she knelt down and began to unzip it.

"I brought you something." She told him. "I've been working on a new gadget since the Combat Exam, and I thought this would be a good time to try it out."

Jared gave a sideways look at Aaren. She had never seen Maisie's work in person, other than that one time where she had flourished a gun in front of the class on the very first day at the academy. Apparently it was a hobby of hers. Now Aaren would get the chance to see her work with her own eyes.

From with the bag, Maisie pulled out a fat, blue coloured gun, and handed it across to Jared. He didn't seem especially surprised by it, and after a second glance Aaren remembered it as the gun which Maisie had shown everyone on her first day. Aaren had not gotten a proper look at it at the time. She was too busy being in shock. Now she could see the crafts work that went into it. The metal exterior was coated with a light blue paint, with a rubber grip upon the handle. She also noticed a Letter J which had been welded to the left side of the weapon.

"A gun?" Aaren said.

"A stun gun." Maisie corrected, and continued to rummage within her bag.

"Why did you make a stun gun?" Aaren inquired further.

"For self-defence." Said Maisie, glancing up at her.

"You could have just bought pepper spray." She said.

Maisie didn't give her a response, and continued with the removal of her surprise gift. A few seconds later she was lifting out a heavy object in both hands. Once it was outside of her backpack Aaren could see what it was. Maisie had brought with her a forearm length leather glove. Attached to that leather glove was a large mechanical box with several batteries wired to it. At the front end of the box were two thick pneumatic pistons, and connected between the tips of both pistons was a piece of flattened metal, about twelve centimetres in length. Around the knuckles of the glove were sewn in a series of sturdy but loose looking strings, which lead back into the device attached to the wrist. Aaren had never seen something so unusual looking before. It seemed that Maisie had thrown together pieces of car scrap and created a strange sort of steampunk punching glove.

"Whoa!" Jared muttered with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. His mouth hung open for a few seconds longer, and the he groaned out "What is it exactly?"

"It's a power glove." Maisie stated, as if they were supposed to know what that meant. They didn't, and the expressions they were giving her made that clear. "It should give you a more powerful punch." She explained.

"I imagine so." Aaren said. "Judging by the metal ram you put on it."

"The pistons activate when you clench your fist." Maisie instructed, as she reached forward and attempted to fit the glove upon his right hand. He was cautious and shaky at first, but it didn't take her long to slide it onto his widespread hand. "They push the ram forward so that it sticks out past your knuckles. When you loosen your grip again, the pistons retract. I've already tested it, and it works just as intended."

"Tested it on what?" Jared asked.

"Watermelons." Maisie told him, not sure why he was looking at her with a chocked expression. "It's fine. You won't hurt anyone too badly. It'll add a bit of extra impact to your punches."

Jared turned his arm over, to see the underside of the device. It was practically untouched, except for a few straps sewn into the leather which kept the device firmly attacked.

"This is awesome, Maisie." He said, looking back to her with a proud grin. "I really like it."

"Thanks!" She blurted out, blushing with joy. "I did a lot of it myself this time. The guys at the forge only needed to help me with the pistons and wires, everything else was my own work."

"The forge?" Aaren wondered quietly to herself.

She was uncertain if the sudden interruption which came next was what stopped Maisie from responding, or if the girl was just not interested in talking to her. The way she turned to face the gateway gave of a few mixed signals about the matter. Aaren was rather certain that Maisie didn't like her. She didn't know why.

The interruption was the sound microphone feedback blasting for a mere moment through a speaker attached to the gate. This was loud enough to catch the attention of the waiting students. From the left side of the wall, Madam Destiny Broadhurst came walking out, dressed in an expensive looking sparkly hot pink blazer and black trousers, a wireless microphone in her left hand. Her long crimson nails were digging into the metal of the equipment, though thankfully this was creating no annoying scratching sound through the speakers. She approached as a small, polished wood podium was brought out by two technicians in grey overalls. As they were placing it down, she climbed the small steps, not giving them a chance to let go of the podium before placing her weight upon it, and slipped her microphone into a holder which had already been fixed to the stand. Once her audience was quiet, and the technicians had finished placing her stage, she was ready to begin speaking.

Madam Destiny Broadhurst stood before the crowd of thirty four students and held out her hands wide. "Good morning everyone. Welcome to the Criminal Apprehension exam." She adjusted the microphone stand so that it stood almost a foot lower than it had. The device was so close to her lips that it picked up her quiet intakes of breath. "I trust you have all prepared adequately, for today's exam will be tougher than any training exercises you have been put through yet."

She gestured her left hand backwards, to the large metal gate behind her. "We have gratefully been given permission by the British Hero Foundation to use one of their Combat Operation Zones for today's exam." She expounded. "Behind this wall stands a makeshift city district, empty of life and fit for heroic exploits. Since the site is designed for training heroes for combat within city areas, you are allowed free reign of the site and complete use of your Quirks."

There was a muttering of excitement from the crowd. Usually they were restricted on how they could use their Quirks. Obviously the rules of the academy stated that no student could use their Quirk on another student, unless specified by a teacher and used for a work-related purpose. Now, just like the Combat exam, they were free to use their abilities in whatever way they wished. Though Aaren doubted that meant they could get away with anything. She was almost certain that anyone recklessly using their Quirk and causing injury to another students would not leave without ramifications. She wondered how many of her fellow students had realised that. Considering some of the members of her class, she suspected that a few of them wouldn't.

"Now, on to the exam itself." Continued the headmistress of Broadhurst Heroism Academy. "Up until now we have chosen to keep quiet about what today's test will entail." She spread wide her arms. "Well, now it is time to shed light upon the matter."

From the left side a group of four grey jumpsuit mechanics carried a large screen towards the podium, and began attacking it to a bulky metal stand. They made an awful lot of noise in connecting the device up to its support, so until they were done Madam Broadhurst remained quiet. It took them around five minutes to finish setting up the connecting wires, which lead away to a large black van a few metres from the podium. It was the kind of vehicle often used during life broadcasting by news and television producers. From her position in the crowd, Aaren could see a small amount of the interior, and spotted a few desks with screens showing locations which appeared to be within the COZ, as well as several pieces of tech related to live broadcasting which Aaren didn't know the name of, as well as a mass of untidy wires which were connected to almost everything within the vehicle and had been wrapped together by pieces of duct tape to reduce tripping hazards.

As the mechanics finished fixing the large screen to its supports, Madam Broadhurst continued her speech, where she had promised to explain the imminent exam.

"In a few aspects, today's exam is similar to the previous Combat Exam last month. Each of you will be expected to face an opponent and defeat them in order to pass." She paused to clap her tiny hands together. "However, there are a few major differences this time." She raised a finger. "For this exam, you will be placed into five groups of seven. Before any of you get excited, we have already decided upon the members of each team, and there will be no discussion upon the matter. You will be graded heavily upon your ability to work as a team, so keep this in mind. Out in the wide world, heroes often have to team up with other heroes with different skills, ideals and backgrounds. In order to make sure justice prevails, a good hero needs to be able to overcome any personal feuds they may have with their colleagues and work upon their talents to get the job done."

So that was the real focus of this exam? Aaren supposed that it made sense. Up until this moment they had not spent much time on their course learning to co-operate. In fact there were several members of Class Junior who quite enjoyed riling up the other students. It would certainly be interesting to see how those individuals did in this exam. However, Aaren was starting to feel doubtful of herself. She did not know most of the other students, certainly she did not trust them. Now she would have to rely on them to pass. The Combat Exam had not scared her. She knew how to fight, and facing an opponent by herself created no fear within her. What she did not know was how to work alongside other people. That was what truly scared her.

At the very least it seemed that Aaren was not the only person bothered by this requirement. There was a heated discussion from the waiting students, with a large number of groans and complaints thrown in. Though it seemed that most people were annoyed that they couldn't pick the members of their groups. That was one matter that Aaren didn't mind too much. She barely got along with anyone. It wouldn't matter to her who she was partnered with. If she did happen to end up with one of the more rowdy, annoying students, they would at least be separated from their friends.

"The second major difference…" Continued Madam, as she raised a second finger and gave her audience the finger sign for peace. For the mechanics passing behind her the fingers represented something very different. "…is who you will be fighting."

The screen, which had taken five minutes to affix to its stand, now switched on and showed momentary static, before portraying a flickering board of white. As Madam turned to face it, standing side on to her audience, the screen began to portray a list of data, organised into five thick outlined boxes. A small flash crossed the screen, with a momentary bleep to follow, and vertical row of images appeared on the far left side of each box. They were too zoomed out to see any details, though it appeared that the images portrayed a series of photographs of people.

"Unlike the Combat Exam, you will not be facing each other in this exam." She held out her hand flat towards the screen. "There are five experienced and ruthless criminals waiting for you behind these walls. Your goal, as trainee heroes, is to hunt down one of these five targets and capture them before they can complete their specific goal. However, a capable hero needs to think on their feet and observe everything in order to outwit and overpower a perp. For this reason, we are giving you nothing but basic information about your targets."

She lowered her arm, and on the screen the first box and image expanded to fill the monitor. The photo was of a man in his mid-thirties, with scruffy orange hair and a large scar across his right eyebrow. The eye itself was covered by a brown eyepatch, and across his forehead was tied a red patterned bandana. He had a grim, grizzly smile on his face, with teeth coated yellow by cigarette smoke. It certainly looked like a stereotypical criminal. Aaren wondered if they would actually be criminals. She doubted it. What sort of hero training school would send its students to fight actually, experienced criminals, especially for a first year exam?

"This is target number one." Madam expounded. "The Bomber. He is wanted for multiple cases of arson and destruction of property. It is likely he will attempt to destroy one of the historical structures on the site."

The first box was replaced by the second, and likewise the first photograph by the second. This image was of a younger man, with strangely translucent skin which seemed to reflect the light of the room back into the camera lens when it was taken. It was very tough to make out any of his details other than this.

"Target number two. The Mirror. Wanted for multiple thefts. He may very well be after something valuable currently located on site."

The third photo was of a woman this time, young and pale. She had short blond hair, black eyeliner, lip piercings, stretched earlobes, and an odd expression of displeasure.

"Target number three. The Hacker. Wanted for widespread cases of data theft, and a series of bank robberies. She seems to be drawn to money and information, so there's a good chance you'll find her in a place full of them."

The fourth target was the most unusual looking of the five, though it was tough to know if number two was especially unusual looking without the glare which had been caught on the photo. He was a large, wide shaped man, with skin which seemed to be made of rock. Instead of hair, he had a slightly bulging cranium with small, spiky protrusions around the side shaped like stalagmites. Unlike the others, he seemed rather happy to have his picture taken.

"Target number four. The Crusher. Wanted for mass destruction of property and several cases of assault and reckless behaviour. He loves destruction, so it shouldn't be too hard to find this one."

The final target was seemed barely of interest. He was bland looking, with a dull expression, dull brown hair that reached his chin, dull tired eyes, a dull roman nose. He looked like an exhausted university student who had given up on his life, not much like a criminal at all. Though Aaren supposed that she couldn't use that as judgment. A criminal could look like anyone, and anyone could look like a criminal.

"Target number five. The Climber." Finished Madam Destiny Broadhurst. "Wanted for theft, trespassing and robbery. You might have to get up high to find him."

Those were the five targets which the students would have to hunt down and capture. Aaren wasn't sure which she would prefer to go after. She wasn't sure if she got a choice in the matter either. If the groups would be decided for them, were the criminals also picked already? She hoped that at the very least she wouldn't be sent to deal with the climber. Not because she didn't think she could manage it, but because he sounded like such a boring, forgettable criminal. The others sounded much more interesting to hunt down.

"Please remember that your safety must come before everything else." Madam Broadhurst spoke up after a moment of silence. "Be careful of your actions, and do the best you can to avoid causing harm to other students. If we should witness any students purposefully hurting another student, whether they be in their team or not, they will be disqualified from the exam. Remember that this exam is not to give you space to show of your Quirks, but to test your ability to work as a team in stressful situations. In order to pass this exam you must work together in your groups and successfully apprehend your target before they can complete their goal."

She clapped her hands together, grinning with wild excitement.

"And speaking of the groups."

She swung around again and pointed a well pampered finger back towards the screen. As she did so, the info boxes upon the screen dramatically expanded, till all five were fitted tightly into frame. Each box was labelled with a number between one and five, and within them were a list of names.

"On the screen you can now see the list of members for each team." Explained Madam Broadhurst. "We have split both classes so that each team will have five Class Junior students and two Class Senior students in them. Please spend the next few minutes sorting yourselves into your specific group and stay together until we are ready to begin the exam."

Aaren's eyes darted across the boxes, looking for her name. They were arranged in alphabetical order via surnames, so hers would be towards the bottom of its list. It didn't take especially long for her to find it. Her name was placed in the box for Team One. She then looked at the other six names listed with hers. She almost groaned as she saw some of the names.

 _Jason Jones._ That would be fun, having to put up with his aggressive attitude. No doubt he would do everything he could to ruin their chances of succeeding.

 _Rylie Taylor_ , the reptilian girl who sat in front of Jared. She was certainly a character, though maybe not such a well written one. She seemed to have only two emotions: cheeky and flirty. It was tough to tell at times which was which. Aaren had noticed that her flirty state was not just used with the boys but with the girls too. She would have to keep her eyes on her, just in case she got any funny ideas.

 _Ty Urban._ Aaren had mixed feelings towards him being on the team. He seemed far too shy and introverted to be of any use, but on the other hand maybe he would be more helpful that the other two could be. She would have to wait and see.

There were two names she didn't recognise on the list. Madge Baumer and Elijah Zylstra. She supposed that they were the two Class Senior students in their group. She had not met them yet, but she hoped that they would be useful during this exam. That left the final member of her team. She focused her eyes upon the last of the names, the one that came just after hers.

 _Jared Wreath_

She turned her head to look at him. He turned to look back. They had both read it at the same time, and seen that they were in the same team together. They didn't say anything for a moment, until eventually Jared plucked up the courage to speak.

"I guess we're together then." He said with a weak shrug.

She shrugged back. "Looks like it." She said.

"I'm in group three." Maisie said aloud. She turned also to Jared. "I'm not with you." She muttered with disappointment.

Jared looked back at her with a sympathy, though there was little he could do to make her feel better. "Good luck." Was all he said in response?

Maisie smiled back, and nodded at him with a brave smile. "You too." She said.

Now by themselves, and with two pieces of homemade equipment in –and on – hand, Jared turned back to Aaren, a bout of nerves upon his face.

"Well then…" he muttered. "Let's go find our other team members."

It wasn't tough finding someone like Jason Jones. He was already angry about the members of his team. Apparently it was 'disgusting' that he should be partnered with a Quirkless student. Jared didn't seem especially bothered by his discriminating comments at that moment, however. Aaren supposed that he was too nervous about the exam to care. Rylie quickly found them, as was expected. She seemed drawn to Jared and Jason like a fly to a cowpat, or a dragon to a treasury. Eventually Ty decided to show up, not speaking or even looking at any of them. As for the two senior students, it turned out they were grouped up with the oldest members of that class. Elijah must have been close to eighty years old, yet surprisingly he didn't seem to suffer with any sort of rheumatism or weak bones. In fact he seemed fitter than most of the younger people around him. As for Madge, she was your typical sweet old lady, not much younger than Elijah. She was by no means as physically fit, but she seemed able to keep up with the other members of her team.

Once all the teams were collected, the exam was finally ready to begin.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, would you please approach the gate!" Came the voice of Madam Broadhurst, who had moved her podium out of the way and was now standing somewhere to the side with the technicians and other teachers. As Aaren's team approached the towering structure, she saw Ravenhead raise a feathered thumb up towards them. She looked back, and realised that this was aimed at Jared. He grinned, and gave him the thumbs up in return. It was strangely touching to see this interaction between them. It suggested a powerful bond, though she wasn't sure how it had been formed. Jared had mentioned speaking with Ravenhead. It seemed that this one moment of conversation had made a big difference to him.

They reached the gate, as Madam Broadhurst continued the final part of her speech.

"Each group will be going after one of the five targets. The target each of you will be attempting to chase down shared the same number as the team you are in."

That meant that Aaren and her group would be going after Target One. She supposed that was alright. It would be rather interesting to hunt down someone called the Bomber.

As the final words from the headmistress of the academy were spoken, the large metal gates began to swing open. It created a horrifically loud scraping sound. Through the slither of light between the moving metal came a bright glare, which almost blinded Aaren. In her dazed state she heard the sound of a horn blare, and around her came the rush of feet and the students charged forwards.

"Let the Criminal Apprehension Exam… Begin!"

* * *

 **I just want to leave a quick note to say I will be taking a hiatus for the Christmas holidays. I was hoping to have this arc finished by now, but because of delays and other problems the plan has changed. This is not meant to be the end of the second arc, and while on my break I will be putting together the chapters that make up the Criminal Apprehension exam. I will do the best I can to get them up some time after new years. Till then, I hope this chapter keeps you interested in the upcoming chapters. I think I'll have a lot of fun writing this part.**

 **See you in the new year!**


	22. Chapter 20 - Teamwork Discord

**Jared Wreath**

* * *

There were no words within the English language strong enough to describe the emotional sensation within Jared Wreath's mind. The closest word he could think of was… Restless.

As those massive metal doors swung upon, revealing the mass of concrete buildings within the walls of the COZ, he was overcome by an unusual sensation of dread and anxiety filtered through a sieve of determination and hope. Subconsciously he began tapping his fee, wanting to move yet forced to wait for the command. Here he felt like a soldier in a trench, waiting for the blow of a whistle to begin the charge over the top. Each second he waited for the gate to open was an additional second of doubt in his mind. He had to remind himself who he was, where he was, why he was there, the effort he had made to get there, the people he would be with – or rather the person.

He was grateful to whatever external force of the world had teamed him up with Aaren. She, of all his friends, understood his weaknesses as a hero and as a human, and could cover for them with her own strength, as he could cover for her weaknesses with his strengths. The biggest problem would be the other five members of the group: Two older students he had not met before, Rylie Taylor, Ty Urban and Jason Jones. He, out of all of them, would be the most troublesome for certain. But while he doubted he would communicate well with the others, at least Jared could put his trust in Aaren.

The doors were now halfway open, and with each half-second his nerves swelled to greater size. This was his true moment to prove himself. The Combat Exam had been the first, and though he had lost his fight he had learned a lot from his defeat. Now this was his chance to prove just what he had learned, and face an actual, real life criminal. If he could manage this, he would have proven, completely and utterly, that he was capable of becoming a hero. His teachers would be watching him. In order to make his point, he would have to put on a good show.

Finally the doors were fully open, and as the thick, wide sheets of metal slid to a stop against the inside of the wall, a loud alarm burst through the speaker system.

"Let the Criminal Apprehension Exam… Begin!"

That single declaration from Madam Broadhurst spurred two classes of thirty four trainee heroes into action. Jared took a long, sharp step forwards, beginning his run for the entrance. He was swiftly overtaken by almost every other student around him. Though the month of training beforehand had done lots to improve his physique, he was not quite able to outrun the others just yet. But that didn't matter at this moment. This was not a race. He simply had to work with his team and capture their target, all while displaying his talents as a hero. He could do this! _He could do this!_

It was a little disorienting to see a crowd of other bodies, young and old, speed past him in various directions. Jared felt his brain spinning, as he was nearly knocked over by one of the senior students whose name escaped him. Within the blur of moving bodies around him he spotted Maisie hurrying away to a more shadowed section of the wall, where she joined up with the members of her group. Jared had not read the listing for Maisie's group, though as he glanced in her direction he noticed that Payton was with her, his long moth wings stretching out with his arms. Freya was also with her, which Jared appreciated. The teachers had placed both he and Maisie with at least one person they trusted. Perhaps that was Ravenhead's intervention, or perhaps it was just chance, but he had no doubt that Maisie would be fine with her group. At the very least it appeared that Tate and Mitchell were not part of their team.

It took him a moment to adjust to the chaos around him, but eventually he pulled himself together and tried to focus upon what he should do first. This was an exam with a focus upon teamwork, so the first thing he had to do was find the rest of his team.

Fortunately he didn't have to look too hard to find Aaren. She had been standing close to him before the exam started, and as he entered he saw that she was already inside, waiting for him nearby the massive gate.

A few of the other students were attempting a similar process, waiting for their teammates so they could group up.

"You okay?" Aaren asked him as he approached her.

He nodded back, stretching his arms and legs to prepare himself for a likely extensive amount of physical exertion. "Will be once we get started."

"We should find the others first." She told him. "I hope they haven't decided to run off on their own.

As it turned out, most of their team had had the same idea as them. They found Ty first, waiting not far from them, obscured at first by the chaotic crowd. He didn't seem too eager to be in a team with other students, yet he followed the two of them obediently as they searched for the rest of their team. Next they came across Rylie, the reptilian girl, who had been looking for them at the same time. She seemed especially eager to be teamed with Jared, which unnerved him for multiple reasons. Then they encountered the two senior students in their team, both of who were the oldest looking – if not the oldest in age – of all the students at the academy. One was an elderly woman named Madge Baumer, who Jared had never met before. She had long curly grey hair with the texture of cotton, and wore thin rimmed glasses on her broad nose. She also had the sweetest personality of anyone Jared had ever met, the sort of personality that befitted a stereotypically kindly grandmother. The other student was a man who seemed to be even older than her, and unlike Madge Jared _had_ met him before. His name was Elijah, and he would often turn up to the self-defence classes. He was rather quiet and observant, so communicating with him was difficult, though he would speak up now and then to throw in his opinions upon a subject.

There was only the one person missing now, and Jared was not surprised by who it was.

"We're missing Jason." Aaren realised, looking between the members of their group. Jared was not surprised by how she had taken up the mantle of leader so quickly. She had the sort of personality for it, and the way she behaved made it seem like a second nature.

"I didn't see him pass us." Jared said, hoping to provide some form of help. Up until now Aaren had done the searching for their team members, which he was annoyed by because it was already a failure to work upon his desire to prove himself.

"Knowing him he's probably sped ahead of us." Rylie spoke up with a cocky grin. "In which case, we ought to catch up quickly."

"It would be foolish to run off without a plan." The elderly man, Elijah, reprimanded her with a cold and stern voice. "We don't know anything about our target, where they might be or what they are capable of. First we should attempt to locate them, then we should regroup and formulate our plan to stop them."

"If he has run off to find our target, it's likely we'll run into him at some point." Madge reasoned in her sweet, heart-warming voice. "Hopefully he'll know better than to try attacking by himself."

Jared doubted that he did. This was Jason they were talking about. He didn't tend to think much about anything before acting on it. Most of the junior class could still remember his reaction to Catherine's refusal to fight during the Combat Exam. If something that simple and meaningless had set him off in such a way, who knew how he might react to a serious situation. There was every possibility that the Bomber might not be the most dangerous person they had to deal with inside these walls.

"He knows that this is an exam, right?" Rylie reasoned aloud. "So he knows we have to work as a team. Perhaps he's just scouting ahead."

"If that's the case, he should have found us first and clarified this." Aaren responded. She sighed with annoyance. "Not much we can do but get started without him, and hope we spot him on the way-"

She was cut off sharply by a massive gust of wind which spread across that area of the COZ. It was so unmistakably recognisable that each student from Class Junior still in the area looked towards the direction it had come from.

Somewhere above a tall nearby building descended a humanoid shadow, black against the glimmer of the morning sun, a spiral of wind surrounding them. It landed upon the roof of a ten story office building, knelt down onto all fours, and took off against with a burst of air from its hands. The roof of the office building blasted inwards, collapsing the top floor and causing dust and cement chunks to fly outward. Moments later the shadow was in the air again, arcing in a parabolic curve towards another tall building.

Aaren sighed even deeper. "That would be him, then." She muttered.

"What's he doing?" Jared said in bewilderment.

"Hopefully he's doing as she suggested." Said Elijah, pointing a thin finger at Rylie. "Thinking for himself and scouting ahead."

The way the old man said that made it sound like he disliked the idea of working in a team. Regardless of what any of them wanted, they would have to work together in order to pass. Jared would do the best he could to work alongside all of them. He could only hope that they planned to do the same.

"So, what should our first action be?" Rylie asked in a way that suggested she did not want to be the one to make that decision for the group.

"First we need to find our target." Aaren reminded her. "After that, we need to observe them, find out what they want and figure out a way of stopping them from getting it."

"Then we best get moving." Madge said with a smile. "Though they never stated a time limit, I doubt our teachers will let this exam go on past nightfall. That gives us anywhere between one and twelve hours."

"We can do this in sixty minutes." Aaren encouraged them. "But we need to get moving now and work as a team for that to happen."

"Perhaps we should split up." Jared suggested, wanting to provide some form of input. He had been struggling to think of anything to add to the conversation up to this point, and this was the first time he had felt he had something to offer.

The others looked at him, and thought.

"That's actually a good idea." Elijah agreed. "If we split up into groups of two, we can search the areas west, north and east of here. That way we'll cover more ground quicker.

"We'll need some way of communicating, in case we do find our target." Rylie added, noticing a flaw within the plan.

"Does anyone have a mobile phone on them?" Aaren asked.

Jared, Rylie and Madge raised their hands.

"Then if the four of us swap numbers, we can keep in touch with each group that way." Aaren continued. "If Rylie and I search the sections north of here, then we'll have two of the phones with us. It's more than likely that he'll be near the centre, so if we find him and somehow get split up we can both communicate with you. Madge, Elijah, you two look around the western section, and Jared and Ty, if you two search the eastern section, we might find him before midday."

"Can't I go with you?" Jared asked her, perhaps a little too eagerly.

He saw Ty give him a slightly sad look from behind him, but he paid him no attention. Aaren narrowed her eyebrows questioningly.

"Do you need to?" She asked.

"No, it's just…" Jared attempted to say, but Aaren cut him off.

"You and Ty should be fine." She told him with an honest expression. "I doubt our target will be in the eastern section anyway. You know my number already, so if you need to contact me you can do so easily."

Jared shrugged. That wasn't quite what he was worried about. He didn't know Ty very well. The boy was quiet, and difficult to communicate with. Though Jared wanted to believe that he would make an effort to work with him, he couldn't help but be concerned that Ty might up and leave him while his back was turned. He trusted Aaren much more. She wouldn't run off like that. He felt much more comfortable having her by his side. Aaren, however, did not seem to pick up on this fear… or possibly she was trying to push him out of it. It was tough to tell sometimes.

She gave him a small, confident smile, hoping that this would encourage him a bit more. From beside her Rylie was glancing between the two of them, confused by their unusual relationship. She made a short sniffing sound, then she grinned, her sharp teeth on full display.

"Smells like teen angst." She muttered, giggling under her breath.

Aaren seemed to shoot her a grumpy glance from the corner of her eye, which Jared only just picked up on. An unusual reaction for her. Usually she ignored the odd or rude comments of the other students.

"Exchange numbers, then." Aaren stated. The four members of the group with mobiles on their person withdrew them and began exchanging their numbers. It took about three minutes to save and test dial each of their numbers in turn, but this expenditure of time was worth it to guarantee they could retain some form of communication.

After that, they split up into their trios and set of in the direction they had agreed upon. Aaren and Rylie headed north for the centre of the COZ, Madge and Elijah turned west, and Jared and Ty followed the windier alleys towards the eastern perimeter. Though Jared was not at all confident that this plan would work out as well as Aaren seemed to believe, he bottled up his doubt and nerves and did the best he could to put his courage and determination first. He set foot into the depths of the Combat Operation Zone, with his quiet companion following at a distance.

* * *

Before taking the Criminal Apprehension Exam, Jared had known nothing about his fellow student Ty Urban. After spending fifteen minutes with him exploring the eastern side of the false city district he learned about one very prominent aspect of his personality. He was quiet. That alone was not so unusually by itself. Some people just didn't talk very much, and that was fine. But Ty was so quiet that Jared had to wonder if he even had vocal chords. He never said anything, he never made any vocal sounds of any kind, his footsteps didn't even make so much as a mild scrape upon the concrete streets. He found this to be very discomforting. A little bit of mild chatter just to relieve the tension of their exam would have been nice. If he had been with anyone else, that would have occurred for certain. But Ty, he was quieter than even the grave could possibly be, because even then if you listened carefully you might hear the sound of worms wriggling through the earth. Jared wasn't sure if he did this on purpose. Some aspects of his silence seemed to be of his own choice. Unless he was mute, he seemed capable of speech and making other sounds with his mouth, he just chose not to. But his unnerving ability to breath soundlessly, to walk without the echo of a footstep, to shuffle and slide his hands about in his pockets without any sort of ruffling from his clothing. By the end of the exam, he was certain that the boy could not possibly be human.

He had attempted to start a conversation with his companion, saying such thoughtful and inquisitive statements such as 'so, why do you want to become a hero?' or 'what do you think of the rest of the class?' or 'are you always this quiet?'. He hadn't even gotten a small hum back out of him. Ty never responded to him, he didn't even look at him. So Jared gave up. Talking to him was the same as talking to himself, he got just as much of a response. He had to hope that Ty was actually registering anything said to him, and that he wasn't deaf as well as mute.

Fifteen minutes had passed since the two of them had set off to look for their target within the eastern section of the COZ. Within that time they had seen nothing of their target, heard nothing from their teammates, or seen any of their other classmates nearby. There wasn't even a sign that anyone else was anywhere close to where the two of them were. Jared had never felt more physically isolated in his life. He was half tempted to ring up Aaren just so he could hear her voice, and feel for a moment that he was not walking around by himself. But if he did that she would probably get angry at him, and remind him that they were only supposed to use the phones to communicate about important matters. Then he wondered if she would even pick up. Perhaps she and Rylie had already found the target, but were too busy dealing with him to call them. If that were happening right now, he and Ty wouldn't have a clue. For a moment he thought about turning back. Then he thought of what Aaren and the others might say if he did turn back, and it turned out that none of them had yet found their target. He didn't want to look like a coward, or an idiot. No, he would have to follow the plan and stick with the difficult parts. Perhaps Ty would get more vocal once they encountered their target… if they encountered their target.

He had just turned a corner from a cramped alleyway into a more open yet just as empty main street, with Ty still quietly and closely shadowing him. Yet another part of the false district with nothing in it. Where was everyone? He knew that only around forty people occupied this entire zone, but surely he would have heard or seen something by now. The zone wasn't that big. Where had they all disappeared too? Jared was starting to wonder if he had gotten lost. Ty wasn't exactly helping, so if he had wondered away from all the action he wouldn't have noticed.

"See anything?" Jared said, taking a glance down both ends of the street.

Ty didn't respond. Jared sighed. Yet another question which Ty just would not answer. It wasn't as if he was asking much of him this time. He simply needed to know whether Ty had seen anything out of the ordinary. All he had to do was nod, or hum, or look at him in surprise, but he did absolutely nothing but stand there silently, staring at the floor. Jared wondered if he even wanted to pass this exam. He was doing nothing to suggest he did.

Hoping that he had not missed any obvious signs of nearby trouble, Jared stepped out of the shadows and cautiously followed the long street. It was leading him north east, away from the exterior wall and back towards the centre. Though he was attempting to follow Aaren's command, he could already see the wall in the distance, and there wouldn't be many buildings ahead of him before he reached it. If their target was over there, Jared would have surely noticed him by now.

Ty stumbled for a moment behind him, but made no grunts of surprise, and did not attempt to stop his fall with his hands, instead keeping them inside his trouser pockets. He followed quickly after Jared, distant from Jared yet still close enough to be considered a follower and not a stalker.

It really was quiet around here. Jared had noticed already the absence of any other students, but even then there had to be some sort of ambient sound to make the scene feel more real. Pigeons nesting on roves, a few signs rustling in the wind, the whir of external air coolants. There was none of that. There were only the tall, looming concrete buildings and the endless roads the slithered between them. While it was plausible that whoever constructed this site had not felt like putting small details like flags or signs or ACs, it seemed especially unusual that there would be no sign of the usual avian life of the city. He looked up at the sky. Indeed, there were no birds of any kind flying overhead. That was very strange. Has they been scared off, and if so, how?

As his eyes drifted across the high rooftops of the towering buildings around him, he spotted a glimpse of something that wasn't made of concrete. It was read, leathery, and attached to a pale humanoid who was kneeling down upon the ledge of a housing apartment near the end of the street.

"What the hell?" Jared muttered upon spotting it. It took a few seconds for his eyes to realise what they were looking, but once they had adjusted to the distance of the individual and the harsh glow of the sun against the windows behind them, he felt a sharp surge of annoyance. "Jason?!"

Sure enough, the one member of their group who had not bothered to try and work with any of them was sat upon the top floor of a fourteen storey building. It was a sight Jared had not been expecting, but then again he had not expected Jason to be able to jump so high using his quirk. This building was nowhere near as tall as the one he had jumped to when the exam began. Compared to that massive structure, this apartment block seemed like a small hop. It did not seem that Jason had noticed them yet. His attention was turned towards an alleyway further down the street. Though Jared did not especially like the idea of talking to Jason at this moment, he might already know where their target was. Perhaps he was following him, or watching from afar, waiting to see what he does and looking for a perfect moment to strike. That sounded far too complicated for Jason, but perhaps he was doing just that. Regardless of how he felt about the matter, Jared knew it would be best if he attempted to join up with him.

He checked to see if Ty was still following him. He was. He didn't tell him to keep up, or to watch out. Ty wouldn't have responded anyway, so what was the point. Quietly, Jared walked towards the apartment upon which Jason was sat.

At they were about twenty metres from the building, Jason stood up, eyes still focused in the same direction. After a momentary pause, he began to lower himself once more, bending his legs and putting his arms to the ground, in a manner Jared recognised instantly.

"He's going to push off!" He muttered. He turned to Ty and held his arm in front of him. "Look out!"

The blast of air ruptured the apartment building, shattering the entire top floor and sending rubble flying across the street. The shockwave rippled outward from there, almost knocking Jared and Ty flat. They had been much closer to the launch this time, and the force it created was stunningly overwhelming. Jason was capable of creating this much power? Jared was all the more grateful now that he had been fighting Tate and not him during the Combat Exam.

The blast had left them so disoriented that they only caught the end of Jason's trajectory. He disappeared behind a low row of single storey shops, into a side alley nearby.

"After him!" Jared instructed. He ran in the direction which Jason was headed, and to his surprise Ty was following, keeping pace.

They rounded the corner into a thin path, trying to avoid placing their feet in the wet guts that ran along its edge, and followed its winding route. Jared came to a sharp stop as he reached its end. It opened out into another street, that almost impossible to differentiate from the previous one. The only big difference was that there were no collapsed buildings here. Jason had not performed another jump from here. If he had they would have heard and seen it. So he had to be somewhere nearby, Jared reasoned. There seemed to be a limit to how far he could jump, dependant on the force of his blast off, the trajectory of his ascent and descent and the height at which he took off. Jason had not gone very far, so he had to be somewhere nearby.

The both of the stood in centre of the road, glancing about for a sign of their rebellious teammate. For someone so loud and obnoxious, it was surprising how tough it was to find him. Jared never imagined Jason to be someone who was any good at stealth. Perhaps he had seen them coming, and had hidden in the hopes they would go away.

Jared was about to suggest that the two of them search for him, when Ty sharply coughed. Jared was surprised. That was the first sound he had made since they started the exam. He turned around to congratulate his companion. When he did so, he saw that Ty was no longer paying attention him. Instead he was looking towards the other end of the street far behind them. It took Jared a moment to realise what he was looking at. When he did, his muscles tensed and his jaw clenched.

Someone was walking towards them. It was tough to tell who they were from so far away, but Jared was certain that he did not recognise them. From their stature alone he could tell that they were not one of the junior students, and although he didn't know the senior students too well, he couldn't recall one of them that looked like him. From the few details he could make out, this figure was most likely a man. He seemed to stand at about six feet tall, possibly taller, and while being skinny he had a slightly greater amount of muscle bulging through his clothing than the average man did. A brown jacket fit snuggly around his torso, sleeves ripped off, leaving his arms bare to the wind. Though the mist striking thing about him were his arms. His left arm was perfectly normal. There was nothing unusual about that arm. His right arm, however… what should have been a wrist, hand and fingers was instead a long, metal cylinder extending out from the elbow. It was thicker and bulkier towards the joint, but as it extended outwards it grew thinner, till it became worryingly similar in shape to a cannon.

Jared was left frozen to the spot. The figure did not seem to have noticed them yet, but it probably wouldn't be long till he did. He only had a few seconds to act.

With barely a thought, he grabbed Ty by the sleeve and ran for the alley they had come through. He pulled his companion around the corner and out of the street, out of sight. Ty struggled to free himself, yet let himself be pulled along by Jared until they had passed the corner. It was only then that Jared let go, and Ty gave him a bothered look. Jared barely noticed his annoyance however. His attention was focused upon the street outside. Glancing his eyes around the wall, he could still see the figure, walking casually towards them. If he had noticed Jared and Ty he was not letting them know.

Jared wasn't sure why he had run. His instinct was not usually to flee from a threat. Perhaps it was shock left over from Jason's blast, or nerves towards his performance in the exam. He felt awkwardly annoyed with himself for running without thinking. But now that he was out of sight of the approaching figure he was able to consider his current situation more thoroughly. All things considered it was probably a smarter move to take cover rather than stand out in the open street. He didn't know this approaching individual, and if they were one of the criminal targets they might attack him on sight. His caution could well have saved him an unnecessary fight. Considering this made him feel more relaxed about his rash action.

Now that he and Ty were out of the street, they had a chance to breath and thing of what to do next. They could call Aaren and ask her what they should do, but Jared recalled how she had disliked his desire to rely upon her and thought against it. There was the chance that this figure was one of the older students who Jared did not recognise, but the more he considered it as a possibility the less he believed it. There would only be one way to know for sure. He had not gotten a proper look at the figure before turning tail, so he would have to try and get one.

"I'm going to take a look out there." He whispered to Ty. Ty looked back. He didn't nod or protest or even cough this time. Jared nodded awkwardly, hoping that Ty would decide to do anything stupid.

With caution fuelled by anxiety, Jared peeked around the corner of the alley entrance, and looked out at the street beyond. The figure was still there, still walking towards them. He was closer now, close enough to see more than just the outline and colour of his clothes, and with each step he was getting closer still. Jared most certainly did not recognise him from either the junior or senior class. That meant that he had to be one of the criminals they were supposed to catch. There were five groups, and one criminal for each group, but Jared had admittedly paid little attention to the other four targets that were mentioned after his. If this figure was one of those four would he bother wasting his time to mess with him and Ty?

The figure was around fifteen metres away by this point, close enough to see the details of his face. It was then that Jared saw the scar and eyepatch which covered the figure's right eye and brow, the red bandana tied around his forehead and the scruffy orange hair that exuded like stagnant flames. He recalled the image of the target which his team had been told to catch. The man in the photo had the same hair, scar, eyepatch and bandana. In that second Jared felt a cold shiver down his spine. This was their target.

"It's him." Jared said, taking a step back into the alley. "The Bomber."

He turned. Ty was looking at him again, but this time with a stare of expectation. For some reason he thought Jared would know what to do. Jared did not. Strategical thinking was not exactly one of his talents. Perhaps this was the point where he ought to call Aaren. She had instructed that they do so once they found their target. But the Bomber was only a few metres away. He might hear him if he tried to call her now. What if he already knew where they were? Were they expected to fight him while they waited for the others? Jared wasn't sure if he could do that. He doubted Ty would help him. The boy had refused to fight Aaren during the combat exam, so why would he behave any differently here? He wasn't even willing to chip in and suggest what the two of them should do about this situation. Jared was doing all of the thinking for them, and it was making his brain hurt.

"We should call the others." He decided after a quick yet thorough thinking session. "Could you keep an eye on the target for a minute?"

Ty didn't respond, as Jared had expected, but to his surprise he did as he was instructed, stepping past Jared to glance slightly around the edge of the alley.

Jared reached a hand into his pocket, nudging aside his stun gun, and pulled his phone out. He took a quick glance back at Ty as he pushed in a series of numbers and waited for the line to be picked up. He did not seem startled or concerned, so hopefully the Bomber was not yet aware of them. There was a series of double ringing bleeps, before they cut of sharply, were followed by the rustle of clothing, and a voice came through the speakers.

"Jared?" asked the non-present voice of Aaren Whitley.

"We've found the Bomber!" Jared whispered, his mouth close to the small speaker at the base of the phone.

"Okay, where are you?" She inquired.

Jared paused. He wasn't sure. They had walked some distance from the entrance, and he had paid little attention to any street signs or landmarks that they had passed, though admittedly there had not been many. He glanced back towards Ty, who was still peering out at the street beyond. Jared gulped. He would have to take a look himself and see if he could spot anything to suggest where they were.

He lowered his phone, leaving the line open so he could quickly speak with Aaren once he had an answer. It meant that he would be silent for a few sec0nds, but he had no other choice but to put her on hold for now. He leaned past Ty and peered out at the street. The target was still there, still approaching, much closer than before, close enough to see the colour of his irises. Jared darted his eyes across the street, hoping to spot something. There was barely anything here that he had not seen over and over again in any other part of the COZ. The same concrete offices, apartments and shops sat devoid of life beside the empty road. There was however one thing which stood out that Jared had not at first noticed. Upon the roof of one of the taller office buildings was a large satellite dish. Perhaps the structure was supposed to be a TV or news station, but the dish stood out among the flat concrete rooves as something unusual. If Aaren could see it past the buildings around it, it would work as a pretty good landmark for now.

"There's a satellite dish atop one of the towers near us." He said into the phone. "It's in the east side of the district. If you can see it, head there."

There was a moment of silence from Aaren, and then she responded with. "I see it. I'll call the other two and let them know. We'll be with you in a moment."

Then the call ended. Jared put his phone away. He turned to Ty. His companion had taken a step away from the alley corner, and was looking at him with curiosity. Jared wasn't sure what he was expecting from him. If only he would actually speak to him. Now that he had stopped speaking, Jared could hear the distant yet slowly approaching footsteps of the target. He was nearly upon them, possibly no more than a few metres now. Aaren wouldn't get to them in time. They would be found out first. What would they do then? Chances were they'd have to fight him, but what if he was much stronger than they were? Jared was beginning to feel his anxiety rise once more. He clenched his hands and waited, knowing he could do little now to stop themselves from being found out.

And then there came a shout, echoing down the street off the concrete buildings. "Oy!"

Jared's attention pricked up. He recognised that voice. He make a quick reach for the edge of the alley and peered around to look out into the street once more. The bomber had stopped in his tracks and turned around to look in the direction he had come. There, only a few metres away, stood Jason Jones, sweat dripping down his brow and his arms clenching and unclenching rapidly. He glared at their target, smiling cockily. He then thrust a finger towards him.

"I've been looking for you!" He stated loudly. "You're my target!"

It was then that the Bomber spoke. It was the first time Jared had heard his voice. It was low yet also not as full of cunning and malice as Jared had expected. Instead it sounded as if he was relaxed, as if this was on a relaxing walk, and this boy now confronting him was nothing to be concerned by.

"Then you would be one of the trainee heroes who's supposed to lock me up?" He stated, sounding weirdly indifferent about the matter. "I was wondering when one of you might find me."

"No talking!" Jason stated sharply, thrusting his finger even further out towards his opponent. "I don't want to talk. I just want to fight!" He pulled his arm back. "Now, let's fight!"

Jared barely managed to take cover as Jason released a powerful blast of air from his palm, now thrusting it forwards in the direction of the target. As a result Jared did not see it hit the Bomber, though he did see the aftershock smash several windows and causes a few pieces of wall to break free from several buildings. It was a stunningly violent blast, greater than any he had seen Jason create before. More and more Jared was becoming frightened of his ability.

But then he glanced around the corner, and saw the bomber still standing with his back to the alley, barely touched by the attack. The most it had done was mess his hair, which had been rather messy in the first place. He brushed a hanging thread out of his eyes and exhaled, unimpressed.

"You call that an explosion?" He said, mockingly. Then he lifted his cannon hand up and pointed the barrel directly at Jason's torso. "This is an explosion!"

There was a gentle popping sound, the sort you might hear when a bubble burst. From the barrel shot a small, silver coloured orb. It rotated in the air for a few metres, then descended towards the ground and impacted, bouncing for a few inches. It rolled a metre more and eventually stopped a few inches away from Jason's foot. He looked down at the orb, then back up at the Bomber.

"That was pathetic!" He exclaimed aggressively. "Is that the most you can do? Fire bubbl-"

He was cut up rather violently by the small silver orb exploding. The shell shattered into powder and from it erupted a small yet powerful fireball. The force of the explosion sent Jason sailing backwards down the street. He skidded to a stop after a few metres, lying limp and stunned upon the ground.

The Bomber chuckled, and rubbed a finger across the tip of his cannon arm. "Timed explosives." He murmured just loud enough for Jared to hear. "Gets them every time."

Jason was back onto his feet only a few seconds later, yet the blast and his resulting impact had left him momentarily winded. He groaned, gripping his side, yet he stared back at the target with angry eyes and narrowed brows. Evidently the blast had not improved his attitude at all.

"Stop talking…" He grunted, "…and fight me like a man!"

The bomber looked back at him, smiling slightly. "If you insist." He raised his right arm again, aiming his cannon this time at Jason's chest.

Jared watched the two of them staring each other down, preparing to fight for proper. No doubt every building on the street would be damaged by Jason's reckless quick, but would it be enough for him to defeat this criminal figure alone. Before his attack had barely made the Bomber flinch, yet that one bomb he fired back had knocked Jason off his feet. Surely Jared had to do something to help. The purpose of this exam was to work in a team, but sitting here like a coward would be doing the exact opposite. On the other hand, the bomber seemed to be a rather powerful opponent, as well as unnervingly relaxed. What could Jared possibly do to defeat him? He had the two gadgets Maisie had constructed for him, though he would have to get close to use both of those. And, more importantly than anything else, Jason would absolutely refuse to let him help. He didn't even like the idea of Jared being at Broadhurst Heroism Academy. Perhaps it was best, for now, that Jared kept his distance and stayed out of sight. He could wait for Aaren and the others, and perhaps just in to assist if Jason was really struggling.

 _'But that's not what heroes do!'_

Jared looked down at his feet, feeling ashamed. He was training to become a hero. Heroes do not hide in the face of danger. They face it in order to protect others. Jared may not have a quirk, and he may not have the training or talent that some of the other students did, but if he his in the corner and shied away from the real threats that heroes face then he would never become one. He wanted to slap himself for ever considering hiding while his classmate took on this dangerous criminal. If he wanted to be like his father, like Ravenhead, then he needed to do something. Regardless of his fear, regardless of his doubt in himself, regardless of his issues with Jason Jones… he had to step out there.

He had to start acting like a hero!

"Stay here and wait for the others." Jared instructed as he stepped out of the alley. Ty looked at him in confusion, and then quickly concern. He knew what Jared was doing, and he was not about to get involved.

Jared walked out of the alleyway. The Bomber was stood a couple of metres from him, his back turned and his arm raised and prepared to attack. Though Jason was facing his direction, it did not appear that he had seen him yet. For now, Jared had the element of surprise on his side. He could use that to gain an advantage over the criminal. He could not land the powerful attacks that Jason could, but there were other ways he could overcome this criminal.

He reached for his belt and detached his stun gun, while slipping his left hand into the power glove. He raised the both of them in front of him, the gun pointed at the back of the unaware criminal while the glove was raised before his face like a defending boxer. He took a few steps closer, shortening the distance between him and his target. This would lower the chance of him missing.

As he stepped forwards, his foot trod upon a loose stone near the edge of the road. It crunched and skidded out from underneath his shoe, bouncing of the side of the pavement. The sound it made was quiet, but not quite quiet enough for it to go unheard.

The bomber paused, mid aim, and quickly turned his head back. His left eye, peering over his left shoulder, saw Jared stood only a foot behind him, with a small, blue coloured gun held in his hand and pointed at his back. His eye looked up, and met with Jared's. The young hero looked into the glaring blue eye of the criminal. Jared's arms froze for a second, panic almost taking over. Enough time for the criminal to react.

"Where did you come fro-?" He said.

And Jared's finger squeezed the trigger...

* * *

 **I just want to leave a quick note here to apologist for the long hiatus I took in writing this chapter. I was hoping to get back to working on this story in January, and instead it took me till March. This was partially because with the last few chapters I posted I was growing tired of this story and needed a break. During that break I found I was struggling to think of anything to write, so I put this chapter aside for a while. I did not intend to take so long in writing it, and I will do the best I can to update more regularly. I will not be able to get another chapter up by the end of this week, but I could possibly get one up by the end of the next week. I may have to start posting chapters every two weeks or possibly every ten days, because posting one every week was exhausting me. I hope this long delay has not been a issue and that this chapter has been worth the wait.**


	23. Chapter 21 - The Bomber

**Aaren Whitley**

* * *

Upon entering the COZ for the Criminal Apprehension Exam, Aaren Whitley had assumed that the most difficult individual to deal with would have been the criminal they were supposed to capture. She had not taken into account the sheer determined, intrusive personality of her fellow classmate and team member Rylie Taylor. Aaren had felt she had drawn the short straw in being teamed up with her to search the central area of the district, though the issue was that they had not drawn straws. She had volunteered to go with her. After spending fifteen minutes with the girl, just the two of them and an empty series of buildings, Aaren had realised her mistake.

"Look, I'm not saying that being single is something we shouldn't be content with," She stated with the openness of a closet without doors, "but if you _had_ to get together with any of the boys in our class – I mean _life or death_ situation if you don't – who would you pick?"

Aaren was beyond groaning in annoyance by this point. She had asked this question seven times now, and each time she had refused to respond. It was such a petty thing to ask, as if dating and boys were the only things that went through her mind. They were currently in the middle of an exam, where they were expected to fight an experienced and likely armed criminal. How could she think of such dull tripe at a time like this?

"Why do you care?" She asked, after a series of elongated breaths. She doubted the answer would be much better than the question.

"Well, it's just banter, isn't it?" Rylie shrugged. "Getting to know a fellow student. A fun chat between girls." She nudge Aaren with an elbow. "Come on, surely there's someone."

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Then there is someone?"

"No!"

"But you just said yes!"

"I mean…" Aaren chose to give up. She was currently trying to navigate them through a series of labyrinthine alleyways, she did not need to be distracted by Rylie's aimless inquiries.

"Maybe it's not a boy you're into." Rylie suggested with a subtle cheeky wink. "Maybe your eyes glance the other way. Maybe that's why you don't hang around with us girls so much."

"Why is that an issue?"

"Well…" Rylie mttered with a sly grin. "Your clothing is a bit… suggestive. Shows of your arms and legs a bit too much, you know. Attempting to catch the eye of some fellas?"

Aaren glowered at her. "I wear sleeveless shirts and shorts so that they don't get in the way of my Quirk." She stated clearly and directly. "And my sexuality is not for discussion. Most certainly not right now and not with you."

Rylie gestured a surrender with her scaly hands.

"All right," She said, "All right, I won't intrude any further. You keep your secrets."

They walked in silence for half a minute longer.

"-But if you _had_ to pick anyone…?"

Aaren turned so sharply upon her heels that she made Rylie jump in shock. She stood in front of the reptile girl looking up at her with narrowed eyes. Rylie was half a foot taller than Aaren, yet her resolute stature and angered expression was enough to quell any thought of causing more trouble.

"One more word and I'll leave you behind." She threatened.

Rylie blinked; first her transparent nictitating membranes crossed her eyeballs from the inner corners, and then her normal human eyelids followed suit.

"I was just curious." She murmured apologetically. "You don't really talk with anyone else in the class. You spend most of your time with that Jared guy." Her eyes began to glimmer with cheek once more. "Is that because you secretly have a _thing_ for him?"

Aaren turned away. She would not respect that comment with an answer.

"Can't say I blame you." Rylie continued quietly. "He's not much to look at, but… well… he's got impressive blood."

Aaren paused mid-step. "Blood?"

"You know…" Rylie gestured wildly, looking for the right word. "His family, his father… the famous Progenitor." She rubbed her hands together. "Wouldn't mind a piece of that myself."

"So, the only reason you would consider dating Jared is so that you could get closer to his dad?" Aaren tried to understand.

"Well…" Rylie whispered with a sly grin. "Not the only reason."

'This girl!', Aaren thought. 'Does she think of nothing but boys and messing around? It shouldn't bother me, but considering that she has an eye on Jared, it might be a good idea to keep him well away from her. He's probably not interested anyway, but you can't be too careful. The least she could do to him is give him a few physical and psychological scars. The most...' She shuddered, and quickly stopped thinking about the worse possibilities of a union between Jared Wreath and Rylie Taylor.

The conversation was rapidly getting out of hand. Aaren had to find some way of moving the subject onto something else. She suspected that this would be a fruitless endeavour. Rylie was the sort of person who had a one track mind, and that track unfortunately was focused upon the Wreath family.

"I wonder if the others have found our target yet." She said.

"Didn't know we'd been working with the wrinklies." Rylie blurted out.

"A bit disrespectful." Aaren muttered disapprovingly.

"Why are they even training to be heroes?" The reptile girl mused. "They're a bit passed their prime. That only guy looked like he'd snap if I punched him."

Aaren couldn't disagree more. She had not gotten that impression from Elijah. He had seem much spryer than any of the students from Class Junior. He was certainly very old, but he didn't behave as if he was old. He showed no signs of weakened bones or muscles, arthritis or faulty internal organs, which you might expect from someone of his age. In fact he had the walk of a healthy man in his early twenties. As for Madge, while she did not seem quite as physically fit as Elijah, she had a sort of healthy appearance to her. Something about her complexion suggested that she too was much fitter than she seemed. Perhaps this was because of their Quirks, or perhaps they just lived hearty lifestyles.

"I mean, what are they going to do against a dangerous criminal?" Rylie continued.

"We don't know what their Quirks are." Aaren reminded her. "Perhaps they have something which would benefit us in our task. The teachers placed us into these teams, so they probably picked each team's members on purpose. They have experience working with other heroes, after all. Perhaps they've organised each team with the students best suited to face their criminal."

There was a short pause, before Rylie said "You talk too much."

Aaren gritted her teeth. If there was one positive aspect of this companionship, it was that she now knew how annoying Rylie was and she could avoid her in the future.

It was at that moment that her shorts pocket began to vibrate. Her phone was ringing. She plunged a hand into the shallow space and fished it out. A quick glance at the caller's number revealed that it was Jared on the other line. 'Why's he calling me?' she wondered for a sporadic moment, then recalled quickly the instructions she had given him and the team. 'Has he found our target?'

She pressed her finger upon the screen and placed the device to her ear.

"Jared?" She asked, with both curiosity and concern verging upon her voice.

"Is that Jared?" Rylie shouted, her ears perking up at the mention of his name.

"Shut up." Aaren hissed back at her, pulling her mouth away from the receiver.

There was a small crackle from the other end, as if Jared was struggling to keep a hold of his mobile. Then, in a whisper as silent the dawn wind, he spoke in a shaking and nervous voice.

"We've found the Bomber!"

Aaren was quiet for a moment. She had expected that hearing those words would fill her with relief and, perhaps, a bit of pride. Now that the moment came, instead she was just feeling concern. Jared sounded afraid, uncertain. What was happing to make him feel that way? Had the bomber attacked him? Was he in danger? Was he hurt?"

"Okay, where are you?" She asked slowly and clearly.

Jared did not respond. For a while Aaren could hear quiet scraping sounds, possibly from his clothes or from body movement. She wasn't sure what was happening. Perhaps the Bomber was nearby. She doubted he had been attacked. The phone was still on, and she would have heard any fighting if it occurred.

"How's he doing?" Rylie continued, interrupting the anxious silence.

"Be quiet!" Aaren hissed again. "He's found the bomber."

Rylie's smile faded, and she gave her a grim expression. "No shit." She murmured.

The silence from the opposite end of the call continued for some time more. Finally Jared returned, sounding more anxious than before.

"There's a satellite dish atop one of the towers near us. It's in the east side of the district. If you can see it, head there."

Aaren paused. Satellite dish? She had not seen any while passing through the city. Within this narrow alley she doubted she would spot it, so in order to get an idea of where he was she would have to step out into the open street. Fortunately they had just passed an entrance into a street with joined with a rather large plaza. Perhaps she could find this satellite dish from there.

She ran out into the street, no need to be cautious of cars and pedestrians in this uninhabited district. Her agile feet took her across the road and along the sidewalk. She stopped once she was standing beside a wooden bench at the edge of the plaza. Rylie caught up with her a few seconds later, looking annoyed.

"Please tell me that you're going to run off next time." She groaned. She didn't look out of breath. It seemed this annoyance was simply because she had not been told.

Aaren ignored her and looked across the rooves of the buildings surrounding them. Here most of the buildings were shops, and as such only had a single floor. It was easier to see the buildings beyond them without struggling to look past the buildings in the nearby. She was looking for a tower with a satellite dish atop it. Such a sight, while likely, would not be especially common. Satellite dishes were used for transmitting signals from a satellite to its receiver, so only very specific buildings and structures would have need for one. If it was atop a tower, there was a good chance that what Jared had described was a Television Station.

It didn't take her too long to spot the building in question. It was adorned with three big letters upon the side ' **BBC'**.

Aaren brought the phone back up to her mouth. "I see it. I'll call the other two and let them know. We'll be with you in a moment." She said. And before Jared could respond, she ended the call.

"Sounds like trouble." Rylie said, looking excited at the prospect of a fight. She had been denied a chance to fight during the combat exam, just like Aaren. Though unlike Aaren, at least her opponent had fought back, and had not backed out like a coward.

"They may very well be." She agreed, subconsciously scrolling down her address book to find the recently added number of Madge Baumer. "We might be able to get them before our target does. Come on!"

Aaren set of, her phone now calling the number she had searched for. Rylie followed her, further into the COZ.

* * *

 **Ty Urban**

* * *

He had no idea how to deal with this situation.

Jared did not seem like the sort of person to make rash, life-threatening decisions with no reason or reward. Ty had spent the last fifteen minutes with him, getting to know him, although he himself had said nothing in return. Up until this moment he had been cautious, moving slowly and checking every corner. Now they had found their target, and after immediately dragging the both of them into an out-of-sight alleyway, he had suddenly taken an action that went against that originally perceived caution. This was all because of that one boy who had run off before uniting with their team. He had shown up out of nowhere and attempted to face their target by himself. Ty saw no reason to intervene. He wanted nothing to do with this exam in the first place, and if this boy was desperate to put himself in harm's way then he would do nothing to help him. But Jared appeared to have other views upon the matter.

"Stay here and wait for the others." He had said it with such calm. It had shocked Ty that he might even consider doing what he did, and yet it had happened all the same.

He had stepped out of the alley, and silently walked up behind the unaware target. Ty had no idea what he would gain from this. Not only was he putting himself in danger, he was doing so for a boy who didn't even like him. He had heard several of the insults Jason had thrown at Jared during their lessons. It was tough not to hear them. Ty was sat next to him. Why would Jared risk being injured for his sake? Ty had been faced with abusive individuals before. He would have run from them, tried to get far away. Indeed before this moment Jared seemed to be of a same mind. Except here something had changed. Ty didn't know what. He stayed hiding in the dark alley, peering vigilantly around the corner, watching as his companion stealthily approached their unaware target.

Jared had reached for his belt now, and from it he pulled the blue gun which he had been carrying around with him. Ty had not been aware that the students of Broadhurst Heroism Academy were allowed weapons. Apparently Jared had a special arrangement with one of the other students. Ty didn't care, but he found the very sight of such a weapon gave him chills. It looked far different to the handguns carried by police officers, but it created the same sensation of fear in him. Was he planning to kill their target? Though Ty couldn't care less about the exam or the course, he wondered if Jared would be reprimanded for attempting such a thing, especially if he succeeded.

He was now stood directly behind the target, the tall figure with the orange hair and the eyepatch who Jared had called the Bomber. This man was still unaware of him, and Jared had his weapon aimed up at the man's spine. The man himself was focused upon the winded Jason Jones, who stood further down the street, unaware of Jared's quiet approach. And then Jared's foot had kicked a small stone, and all to quickly the Bomber became alert, turning his head to the left and staring back at the armed boy behind him.

Ty sharply felt his stomach drop. He knew what would happen next. Jared's plan to take the figure unaware had failed, and he was in the direct line of sight of the target. For a brief moment, Ty considered doing something, anything that might help him… But he did not. He didn't budge an inch. He watched in fear, as the Bomber began to turn around, his once raised cannon arm now lowering and readjusting.

"Where did you come fro-?" The Bomber blurted out in casual surprise. It did not seem that he was shocked at all to find a teenage boy stood behind him with a weapon to his back. Though while he was unconcerned by Jared's presence, it appeared that he _was_ concerned by how quickly Jared had fired his weapon.

The man had barely finished his sentence before Jared's finger rashly pulled the trigger. From the gun's tip shot two metal prongs, with a copper wire attached to each. They sailed through the air between the hero and the villain. Ty was silently surprised, and by the look on Jared's face it appeared that he had not intended to fire his weapon so suddenly. He staring in panic at the menacing criminal, as from the barrel of his gun the metal prongs shot…

…And misses!

Though there was barely any time to react in the half-second of time between the gun firing and the prongs landing, the Bomber seemed to move quick enough to protect himself. He swung sharply around, bringing his right arm up, holding the metal cannon across his torso sideways on. The prongs struck the thick metal and bounced off before an electric pulse could be sent through them. They landed on the floor at the Bomber's feet, copper wire spooling behind them. The criminal looked down at the harmless metal pins, and then back up at the shocked trainee hero.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that." He said in a voice not as mocking as it was genuinely surprised. "I didn't know the laws on weapon ownership had been changed to accommodate for children."

Jared looked at his weapon. The copper wire was now beginning to retract back into the gun, bringing the prongs with them. Their quiet scraping across the floor filled the awkward silence for a few seconds. He looked back up at the Bomber, more scared than he had been a few seconds before.

The Bomber not turned to face him properly, standing imposingly before Jared, with his cannon arm slowly rising up to point at Jared's chest.

"It's probably a good thing you missed." He said with a slight grin. "Not for my sake, for yours. I would not be so generous if it did. So I'll give you a chance to back up."

He lifted his cannon arm up to the lever of Jared's head, the barrel hovering before his eyes. Ty could only imagine what Jared was feeling, but if he had been in that situation he would have probably been utterly petrified. Something about staring into the barrel of a cannon awoke a chilling sense of mortality.

It came as a surprise to Ty to see that Jared did not move, as the criminal had suggested. He stared at the cannon unblinking, though while his face portrayed fear his legs would not move. He was not even twitching his feet, it attempting to shuffle out of the way. His stun gun had finished reloading, yet he was making to attempt to use it. He stood stock still, frozen to the spot.

Perhaps the Bomber would have fired his weapon at that point, or perhaps he was only intending to scare Jared. Whatever the motive, the action was all too quickly cut off by a sound that over the last hour had become worryingly recognisable. It was a sound like a rush of air, mixed with slightly fleshy explosion.

Something sailed through Ty's peripheral vision, and took the Bomber with it. The two crashed into the ground floor of a vacant café across the street, causing the exterior wall to crack and plaster fragments and dust to drift away.

Jared and Ty both slowly turned in the direction of the impact, not completely certain as to what had just occurred. For them it had been a blur of movement. Only upon seeing what had caused the Bomber to go flying did they realise what exactly had happened. Why their target had been distracted by Jared, Jason had taken the opportunity to attack, and had sent himself flying down the street using his quick to propel himself. He had then struck the bomber in the side of the head with the bottom of his trainer and kicked him into the café opposite. The hot-tempered youth was now standing at the edge of the pavement, bent double and breathing heavily. His arms hung at his side, his legs shaking and his right trainer hanging loose from his limp foot.

"You idiot!" Jason snarled, turning upon Jared now with the expression of an enraged Pitbull. "I had this under control, and then you showed up and made a fool of yourself!"

"I was trying to help you." Jared said, still in shock.

"Yeah, good job!" Jason snapped disdainfully. "You really had him scared, the way you failed to attack him and stood waiting to be shot in the head!"

"It took his attention away from you." Jared argued, though he didn't look especially proud of himself. Ty suspected that this was because of his inability to act. "Be thankful of that at least."

The rubble began to move. From underneath the Bomber was pushing himself free, sitting up using his cannon arm to support himself. Jason, who had taken a few steps away to confront Jared, was now turning back towards the criminal. The Bomber coughed, covering his mouth with his normal hand, as concrete dust fell from his hair and shoulders. A large boot mark was printed on his cheek. He looked at the two boys, in pain and with a rising anger.

"Okay…" He murmured. "I wasn't expecting that…"

He straightened himself out and stepped free of the rubble, as the roof of the café collapsed behind him. A cloud of grey dust burst from the ruined building, surrounding the criminal for a moment, only to dissipate and reveal him standing undeterred before the two teenagers.

"I underestimated what you boys were capable of." The Bomber said, his relaxed voice now more tense and stern. "I'm not in the habit of making the same mistakes twice."

"The first mistake you made was attempting to blow me up!" Jason growled at him. "You only need to make that mistake once!"

He pulled back his arms, tensing his muscles and preparing to use his Quirk once again upon the criminal. But this time the Bomber was prepared for him. Extending his cannon arm, he fired another grenade from the barrel… into the floor at his feet. It exploded at the exact moment Jason began to thrust forward and activate his Quirk's effect. The blast of the grenade pushed the Bomber out of the way of Jason's attack, which instead buffeted the ruined café with a heavy blast of air. What remained of the four walls holding the building together shook with the force and crumbled even further. Meanwhile the Bomber had been pushed several feet away, and was now landing safely upon his feet.

Ty, who was still hiding behind the wall of the alleyway, was watching everything take place from afar, and had seen the Bomber's reaction coming before either Jared or Jason had. While the Bomber was quickly recovering from his evasive attack, the two boys had only just noticed that he had vanished. It took them to moment that he had used his attack to gain distance from them, as he was now standing a few metres to their right, further down the road which he had come from.

"We're not going to be able to fight him like this." Jared said, attempting to keep his cool and think with a level head which appeared to be tough when talking to someone like Jason Jones. "We should wait for the others and plan out an attack-"

His words were falling upon death ears. Jason was not prepared to wait, or to work with any other students. He squatted down, bending his knees and putting his weight onto both his feet, and then leapt forwards, his Quirk propelling him almost five metres into the air. Jared was knocked over by the sudden blast of air that he left behind before he had a chance to avoid it. He barely got to see Jason's assault on the experienced criminal. Ty, however, saw it all.

He was attempting another kick, this time aimed to strike the criminal in the centre of the forehead. Jason was now descending, swinging his extended leg downward ahead of him, all the while howling like an irate Chihuahua. The assault was almost exactly the same as his as his attack on Catherine during the Combat Exam, and just like during that exam this attack was halted mid performance. The Bomber extended his cannon arm, pointing the barrel directly at Jason, and fired. From it shot a small metal orb, which sailed through the air and bounced against Jason's chest as he was a mere metre's descent away from his target. But unlike the previous bombs, this one exploded upon impact. Jason was blasted out of the air by the grenade's shockwave. He landed several feet away, his back impacting into the hard road, and skidded like a meteor, leaving a small crater and trail in his wake.

Jared had now managed stubble back onto his feet, ironically in time to see Jason fall onto his back. He looked from the rowdy young man to the criminal, who was smiling back at him, shrugging nonchalantly. Now it was his turn to attack, approaching on foot, not exactly running but more jogging cautiously towards his opponent. He still had his gun in hand, but judging by the length of copper wire which had been attached to the pins when they were loosed it seemed that he would have to be relatively close to his target for them to reach. It seemed that his plan was to try and approach the Bomber and then shoot the pongs into an area of his body that they could pierce. The problem was that the Bomber was not prepared to let him do this so easily. As Jared approached, the bomber pointed his cannon and fired twice.

"Fire in the hole!" He bellowed.

Jared saw the two metal spheres spinning towards him, and sharply evaded to the left. One of the balls landed where his left foot had been about to step, creating a small pop and burst of air. It ruffled Jared's clothes, but he was otherwise untouched. The second ball landed a few seconds later, striking an area of the road a few feet ahead. Unlike the first it did not go off on impact. Jared paused for a moment, assuming that the grenade might be times, but when it didn't go off after several seconds he continued running. At first it had seemed that the grenade was a dud. Jared had certainly assumed as much. He attempted to run around the harmless, rolling orb of metal. But as he passed by, the ball abruptly exploded, creating a wide shockwave that knocked Jared onto his side.

"The hell was that?" Jared groaned, sitting up and rubbing his shoulder.

The Bomber chuckled in amusement. "Did you think I would make this easy?" He asked mockingly, and tapped his slanted nose with a normal finger. "A proper hero would have anticipated that."

Ty could see that Jared was annoyed about being talked down to. Though his battle with the criminal was leading them both further from his hiding place, it was still possible to see the exaggerated expressions on the faces of the fighters. If Ty had been a normal person he might have considered what he could do to help Jared. Yet he was not a normal person. The idea never crossed his mind. This wasn't just some petty criminal they were facing. This was a man who had some experience with fights. He was using his Quirk not just to attack but to evade and to protect himself as well. He wasn't wasting time or energy by flailing and attempting to blow up everything around him. He was acting with purpose, every orb fired from his barrel aimed at a specific target. It was debatable as to what a normal person might do when in the presence of an equally smart and dangerous individual. Some would run, others would cower, and a few would fight back. Ty had always felt that his response of not getting involved was the best of the three options. Not being at the scene of an attack was the best choice to make. But as he watched Jared and Jason's attempt to fight the Bomber, he began to wonder why no one else thought this way.

What was it that made people heroic? Why would a person rush thoughtlessly towards danger, risking their lives to likely do very little at all to help? And why was this behaviour praised? Jared had little to gain from fighting this man, and likely he would leave the fight with a few bruises and possibly a broken bone or two. Why was he so selflessly throwing himself into danger for so little gain? As for Jason, Ty was almost certain he was mad. The boy practically frothed at the mouth when he was angry, and he acted so irrationally even when he was in his calmer moods. Why did he care about fighting criminals? What would he gain from fighting the Bomber, other than the satisfaction of hurting someone? Was that why he was fighting then? To hurt someone? Ty's mentality could not be more polar. He had nothing to gain from fighting the Bomber. If he were to try, he would either be hurt by his bombs or run the risk of accidentally killing him with his Quirk. Neither outcome was favourable. Waiting here, behind the cover of the alleyway wall, was the best option available to him. He was forced into this exam, so he had to put up with the teamwork, but that didn't imply that he had to take part in the fighting.

Both Jason and Jared were now back onto their feet. The Bomber was not too far away from either of them, not close enough for Jared's gun to reach him but close enough for a short sprint to bring him in range. In seemed that he was planning to do this, but the issue was avoiding the Bomber's explosive orbs. Jason would likely have little trouble closing the gap between him and the criminal, but his rash attitude would no doubt be his downfall in some way. Ty experienced no excitement, or curiosity, or pride, or concern, or any other feeling which a normal human might have while watching two of their fellow students confront a dangerous criminal. He leaned against the wall and watched emotionlessly.

It was Jason who chose to attack first, as Ty had expected. He went for a more ground oriented attack this time, stretching his arms behind him and releasing a powerful blast of air from both palms. The force of the explosive air send him sailing forwards, sprinting across the tarmac towards his target. If Ty had cared even slightly about Jason Jones he might have been impressed by how quickly he closed the gap between him and his opponent. Though an advantage of his hiding place was that he could see everything that all three participants of the fight were doing. While Jared was currently attempting to slowly step into range of the Bomber, the criminal was again raising his weaponized arm, except this time he pointed it up into the sky. Jason was still approaching, recklessly running into danger without paying any close attention to his opponent's actions. As Ty had suspected, this was indeed his downfall.

The Bomber fired another orb from his cannon arm. This one sailed upwards into the air, reached a peak height at around ten metres above, and then began to fall back down to earth. Jason close to his target and about to attack, moving his arms back in front of him in preparation to land to punches at once. He was still moving incredibly fast, and still not paying attention to the actions of his opponent. The orb was a metre from the ground now. It fell in front of the Bomber's blocking it out of sight. And then it exploded. Except this bomb did not create a powerful explosion that sent anyone caught in it flying backwards. When this bomb exploded, it created a massive flash of brilliant light.

Even though Ty was at least fifteen metres away from the explosion, the light it created was so powerful that even he was effected by it. He covered his face, wincing as the harsh glow filled his vision. He could feel his retina stinging inside his skull. If the glow was this harsh from this distance, he couldn't imagine what it had done to Jared or Jason. For a moment they were out of sight, consumed by the glow. It faded away after a second's passing, and when it did Ty could see that both of his classmates had stopped moving, and were now wincing in extreme pain. Jared was rubbing his eyes, groaning. Jason, who had been at the very centre of the blast, was looking blindly forwards, his hands clasping his cheeks and murmuring in excruciating pain.

Explosive grenades, mines, and now flash grenades. This criminal had an entire arsenal of explosives, each useful for various situations, all within his one cannon arm. Jared and Jason didn't stand a chance of fighting him alone. He was too well equipped for them to fight. It seemed now that there was a legitimate reason for their group to work together to stop him.

The bomber lowered his cannon arm and steppe forwards towards Jason. Ty's eyes were still recovering from the blinding flash, but through the haze he could see that the Bomber was wearing an expression which mixed pride and, bizarrely enough, regret.

"I don't like hurting kids, you understand." He said in a more hushed voice than his usual. "But, you see, I have a job to do. You're trying to get in the way, and I can't allow that. So yeah, nothing personal."

He then struck Jason in the stomach with his normal human hand, punching him in the gut. Jason bent double, retching and gasping in pain. He was still stunned by the flash, but now he was also struggling to breath past the pain in his stomach. Then, with a strong grip, he lifted Jason up by the collar, holding him a whole foot off the ground. Jason's eyes were now opening again, squinting blindly at the man holding him by the rim of his shirt. Then the Bomber raised a leg, and kicked Jason in the chest. He landed on the pavement, wincing and groaning and coughing with pain. Ty did not feel sympathy for Jason. He was not exactly easy to like, and sympathy was tough to have for someone who you don't like. But, by some term of the word that only applied to him, he did feel bad. He hadn't been expecting such a brutal assault to take place during this exam. Their teachers had been preparing all of this. How could they allow them to fight a man who was so vicious?

The Bomber looked down at the groaning, curled up shape of Jason Jones, and sighed. "Perhaps that was a bit too much." He murmured, just loud enough for the Ty to hear from his distant hiding place. Then he extended his cannon arm once more.

Ty almost wondered what he would have done if he'd gotten the chance to fire. Perhaps he was trying to kill Jason. If so, it was strange that he would mention how he hates hurting children, and that he felt he had gone too far already. Whatever his goal, he never got to act. While he had been distracted with punishing Jason for his rash actions, Jared, who was currently going unnoticed by everyone except Ty, was slowly and stealthily sneaking up behind his target. His gun was readied in his hand once more, and Ty could see that he was trying much harder this time to go unnoticed. And it was working. He avoided any pebbles or rubble fragments near his feet, and stepped on the tips of his toes to minimize sound. It worked so effectively that even once the pummelling had stopped the Bomber had failed to notice him. Jared was practically right behind him, as the bomber extended his cannon arm towards the curled up Jason. He then raised his own gun… and fired.

It was a very strange experience to see an adult man suddenly convulse, as his muscles seized up and his body went rigid. The prongs of the gun secured a place upon the back of the Bomber's jacket, digging into the leather and passing along the powerful current of electricity stored inside the weapon. Jared also seemed surprised by the reaction the criminal had to the attack. Most startling of all was the scream. Ty had heard an adult man scream once before… Hearing it again brought back haunting memories. Jared had clearly not been expecting the results that came from his attack. As the bomber collapsed onto all fours, he stepped back, pulling the prongs out of the Bomber's clothing as his hand tugged the gun and stretched the copper wire. The Bomber stopped screaming and convulsing the moment the prongs were removed.

The criminal looked back at Jared, stunned and slightly scared. Jared looked at him with a similar expression. He was slowly rising to his feet once more, but Jared was paralysed by fear, and could do nothing but watch as the criminal reached his full intimidating height once more.

"That… really hurt!" Growled the Bomber, his teeth clenched as his body was still rigid after the attack. "What are you even doing with a weapon like that?"

Jared looked down at the weapon in his hand. "I've never actually used it before." He admitted. "Honestly, I wasn't expecting it to look so… painful."

The Bomber turned on him, rubbing the area of his back which the prongs had attached to with his normal hand. He was calming down now that the lingering sting of the stun gun seemed to be fading, but this didn't mean he was no longer angry.

"If you were about two years older I would punch your teeth in for that." He stated, gesturing with the tip of his cannon arm. "How fortunate for you that I have scruples. Instead I'm gonna give you a simple warning. Step back and stay out of my way, or I'll thump you!"

Jared appeared to consider this for a moment. Ty wondered what it was that went through his brain. It didn't stay there for long at the very least, as only a second later he had made his decision. He did not step back, and to make his point more clearly he pocketed his gun and shifted into a raised hand fighting stance.

The Bomber looked at him and chuckled. "I see." He shrugged. "Have it your way."

Ty had not been expecting a bare fist fight to occur at any point during this exam. When there were people born into this world with incredibly powerful Quirks, there wasn't much necessity for hand-to-hand combat. It was especially unusual considering that the Bomber had a perfect Quirk for ranged combat. His long, rigid, metal cannon arm would probably be a hindrance for him in a brawl. However it appeared that he was holding his own quite well against his teenage opponent.

The criminal was the first to swing a punch, which Jared blocked. He retaliated with a hook punch, which the Bomber also blocked. For the first few seconds the fight was merely an exchange of punches and blocks. Then the bomber swung out with his cannon, and hit Jared in the side of the head. He stumbled sideways, rubbing his head. Ty was surprised that the Bomber did not take advantage of his stunned state and attack. He just stood and waited for Jared to be ready. It felt strange to him that an experienced criminal would show courtesy while their fellow students like Tate and Jason would most certainly have not. Jared turned back around and continued the fight, following up a sharp jab of his left hand with a roundhouse kick aimed at the Bomber's head. The first attack the bomber only had to lean back to dodge, but the kick nearly hit him. He narrowly ducked under it, the edge of Jared's shoe clipping the tips of his pointy orange hair. Jared attempted to land another punch, but this time Bomber held out his own hand and caught it. He twisted Jared's arm around, causing him to wince in pain and buckle forwards. With a push Jared went stumbling backwards, rubbing his now marked wrist.

No one could truly expect a fight between an experienced teenage boy and a well experienced adult criminal to last very long. Ty would have guessed that the fight would have ended after five seconds. He was impressed that Jared managed to hold his own longer than that. After receiving his finger-shaped mark around his wrist, Jared resorted to a more agile style of attack. He began applying his feet to movement instead of combat. Now, when the Bomber went in to punch, instead of trying to block or punch back Jared would instead dart to the side, moving swiftly around the extending arm and fist, to then attempt to land his own punch. This method worked well for a time. Jared managed to land at least too punches before the Bomber noticed a flaw in his method. Jared would wait for the Bomber to attack, then dart aside and aim for a swift jab at the face or torso. To counter this, the experienced criminal lashed out with a clumsy and aimless swing of his cannon arm. Jared must have thought he was in luck, as he lunged forwards with a heavy punch. Then the Bomber turned, and swung the elbow of his normal left arm into the side of Jared's face.

After that Jared found that he was struggling to focus. He was wobbling, uneasy on his feet. Ty had been certain that he had seen blood fly momentarily from Jared's mouth.

"I kept warning the both of you." The Bomber stated, trying not to sound too proud of himself. "You don't stand a chance by yourselves. If only you'd taken that advice."

Jared attempted to steady himself, spreading his legs out and standing with wide feet to counter his swaying, but even then it looked as if he would collapse. "I can't just let you get away." He muttered weakly, his voice shaking like his legs. "You… you were going to kill Jason."

"Kill?" The Bomber genuinely looked surprised. "You think I would actually kill either of you?" He cracked a shocked smile. "I'm not a murderer, kid. I'm an arsonist. I destroy buildings, statues, landmarks. I don't kill people."

"Then why… did you point your cannon…" Jared winced, confused.

"I wasn't going to kill him." Said the Bomber. "I can't use my Quirk to kill people. It can't fire fragmentation grenades. It can only fire shock grenades, sound grenades, flash grenades and air grenades. None of this can kill a person directly. They can shock them a bit, but that's it." He rubbed his chin momentarily. "I can also fire healing grenades. That's what I was trying to do."

Jared was staring with stunned exhaustion at the criminal standing over him. "You were… healing him? Why?"

"I felt a bit bad about hitting him so hard." The bomber admitted. "I thought it might help."

"Are you taking the piss?" Jared blurted out, shouting surprisingly loudly.

The bomber blinked. "No." He said, honestly.

"You really think I'll just believe that you can fire healing grenades. There's no such thing!"

The Bomber shrugged. "I'll prove it if you like." He raised his cannon arm, and before Jared could react he shot him in the head with a small, glowing green orb. Jared fell over backwards, landing on the hard road, the glowing orb rolling across his chest. It did not explode.

Ty had no idea what he had just witnessed. This seemingly violent and malicious criminal had randomly stated that he was not at all intending to hurt or kill anyone. It did not correlate with his actions. If he was not interested in hurting people, why had he attacked Jared and Jason? Did he not see his actions as causing harm? But then he had admitted feeling guilty about hurting Jason, so he had to know. Ty's head hurt. Nothing about this situation made sense. Jared had noticed it, and it appeared that he too was utterly bewildered.

There was movement behind him. Ty turned sharply around, and saw two teenage girls turn the corner into his segment of alleyway. Aaren and Rylie had finally reached them. It seemed like hours had passed since Jared had called them over the phone. In truth it was probably little more than five minutes.

Aaren approached Ty quickly, looking concerned. She glanced around the alleyway, and then out onto the street.

"Where's Jared?" She asked after a moment.

Ty pointed a finger down the street.

Aaren stepped out of the alleyway, with Rylie following suit. They both gasped when they saw the scene before them. The littered street, the ruined buildings, the two injured and exhausted boys lying either on their backs or on their side upon the hard road, the tall figure with the cannon arm standing over one of them.

"That's him!" Aaren said, needing almost no time to realise what was happening. She didn't say anything else. She just ran at him.

Rylie was about to follow, when she turned back to Ty with a curious expression. What are you doing back here?" She asked.

Ty didn't respond. He looked at her with concerned and nervous eyes.

"Well, aren't you going to come help us?"

Ty shook his head forcefully. He was not about to get involved in this fight, regardless of the arriving reinforcements.

Rylie shrugged back at him. "Well, suit yourself." And she turned and followed after her companion.

There were two major advantages in holding back and watching the fight from afar. The first was that you did not get caught up in the battle and receive any unnecessary injuries. Likewise you did not cause them to other people. The second was that you got a chance to watch the whole fight unfold like a vast canvas painting. What would be rushed and adrenaline-fueled death matches were from afar a majestic dance.

It was just unfortunate that, at this moment, the fight ended.

The Bomber saw the two approaching girls, and gritted his teeth in annoyance. "Looks like your friends have arrived." He said, looking back down at the prone Jared. "Time I got moving. This was fun, boys. We should do this again some time."

He sharply turned his cannon arm to the ground, and from it he fired a single explosive orb. When this one struck the road, it exploded into a vast plume of thick black smoke. Aaren had only just arrived on the scene, and was caught out by the sudden eruption of smoke. She staggered back, covering her mouth and coughing violently. The smoke dissipated a few seconds later. When it did, the Bomber was nowhere to be seen. He had escaped.

With the imminent threat gone, Ty felt comfortable with leaving his hiding place. He stepped out of the alley and approached his teammates with the hurriedness of a lethargic sloth. They didn't pay him any attention, though this was a positive outcome for Ty. He would rather not be acknowledged. At the moment it seemed that Jared was being helped onto his feet by Aaren, and to a small extent Rylie, whose idea of help was to kneels beside him and continuously ask if he was alright, all the while staring unblinkingly at his lower half. Jason was still lying in a curled huddle at the edge of the road, his head buried under his arm. It was a strangely feeble position for him to be in. Ty would not have imagined that Jason of all people could look so frail.

"You found us then?" Jared groaned from his prone position on the floor. "Took you long enough."

"Are you okay?" Aaren asked, as she extended a hand to help lift Jared onto his feet.

"Yeah, are you?" Rylie added, shoving her hand past Aaren's in a more forceful and threatening way.

Jared took Aaren's hand, flinching for a moment as if he expected her to use her Quirk and let him fall forwards. This didn't happen, and with the assistance of his female friend Jared pulled himself to his feet, all the while Rylie watched with an envious glare.

"Was that the Bomber?" Rylie asked, shaking off the vicious glint in her eyes and now turning to look for the recently vanished figure.

"It was." Jared said, wincing. The glowing green orb rolled out of a crease in his hoodie and hit the floor. It bounced slightly, but stayed in one piece.

"What's that?" Aaren asked, picking the object up and looking at it curiously.

"He said it was a… healing orb." Jared murmured. "He… He shot it at me."

"Did it work?" Rylie asked out of curiosity.

Jared flexed his arms, rolled his shoulders, shook his legs and stretched his back. "I think so." He said, looking surprised at this realisation. I felt exhausted only a few moments ago. Now I feel just fine."

"Why would he do that?" Aaren pondered.

"He said that he doesn't like hurting kids." Jared explained.

"Yet he's taking part in this exam where he'll be forced to face children." Rylie said slowly, trying to fit the pieces of this psychological puzzle together.

"I don't get it either." Jared told her. "Something's not right."

"Did anyone see where he went?" Aaren asked, turning back to the other two standing students. Both of them shook their heads. "Damn. We might have been able to catch up with him. Best we can do now is wait for the other two to reach us."

"Do they know where we are?" Jared asked.

"Yeah. I called Madge on the way here. She and Elijah should be with us soon."

Soon arrived about a minute later. Both of the elderly students turned a nearby corner, closer to the scene of the battle than the Alleyway had been. Madge seemed concerned by the sight of two injured teenagers, but Elijah was impressively deadpan.

"Good grief." Madge muttered at the sight of the collapsed café and the two roughed up teenagers. "What happened here?"

"We had a run-in with the target." Jared said, biting his lip with annoyance. "It didn't' go too well."

"Looks that way." Elijah said, almost as emotionlessly as his expression. "You'll lucky you didn't get seriously hurt."

Jared hummed. His expression suggested that he didn't quite agree. Having seen the fight for himself, Ty felt he could agree on this. It was very strange that a talented criminal would waste time to heal one of the people trying to capture him. This was an exam at a school for training heroes, so it's likely the teachers didn't want anyone to get killed, but these were supposed to be dangerous criminals they were fighting. There was something that just didn't make sense about this.

There was a small groan from the heap of clothing and limbs at the side of the road.

"Though Jason got hit pretty badly." Jared continued, remembering his rambunctious companion who was still lying in a pile where he had landed. "I think he might need medical help."

"Try using this." Rylie suggested, snatching the glowing orb from Aaren's hand and passing it to Jared. He looked at it, and instantly considered it a good idea. That made Rylie happy. She gave Aaren a spiteful glance, but she ignored it.

Jared walked across to Jason and knelt down beside him. Jason was lying on his side, covering his face with his elbow. He paused for a moment, looking surprised. Jason was saying something. It was tough for Ty to make out what, but it sound as if Jason was… crying.

"Jason?" Jared said. Jason didn't respond. "Are you okay?" Still Jason didn't respond. It was odd for him to be so quiet, and it was especially unusual for him to show weakness like this. The Jason they had come to know was loud, aggressive and insensitive. Yet here he lay, sobbing quietly to himself.

Jared attempted to place the glowing green orb in Jason's hand. He got as far as letting the object touch his palm before Jason sharply and violently convulsed. He yelled out, screaming at Jared, pushing him away. The orb fell from Jared's fingers, and he stumbled backwards, almost falling onto his backside. Jared stood staring at him in shock, and the rest of the group, Ty included, also stared down at Jason.

"Get away from me!" Jason growled. His voice was deeper and more furious than any of them had heard before. Jason could get pretty crazy when he was angry, but this was something different. It was less like a wolf growling at its prey and more like a puppy cowering from a bear, trying to bare its teeth.

"We're trying to help-" Jared began.

"I don't need your help!" Jason barked, spitting the words out of his mouth. "I don't need any of you to help me! I can do this myself!"

"We're supposed to be working as a team." Aaren reminded him. "We need to work together if we're going to catch-"

"I don't _need_ your help!" Jason repeated, shouting at them with blind fury. "I can fight him alone! You lot will get in the way! You always get in the way!" He leaned on his right arm and tried to lift himself with his left, but he did not currently have the strength to support himself, and he fell flat upon the floor. "Stupid Quirkless bastard, getting in the way! I had him! I had him!"

"He was going to destroy you!" Jared argued back. "You didn't stand a chance-!"

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" Jason roared. His voice echoed like thunder across the street. "You bastard! It's your fault he got away! It's your fault we failed to catch him." He coughed weakly, and in a quieter voice he added. "It's your fault she didn't get accepted!"

There was a moment of confused silence.

"What?" Jared asked.

"She didn't get onto this course because of you!" Jason continued. "I promised her were would both make it, but she wasn't accepted… yet you were!" He punched the ground. "Why are you here, you pathetic, Quirkless rat!"

Jared was staring in bewilderment at Jason. He clearly didn't have a clue as to what he was saying.

"I don't understand." He said quietly.

Jason looked up at him, his eyes burning brighter than a white star. "My Sister!" He growled. "My older sister! She and I were going to become heroes together… but you got her place at this academy instead of her. She worked so hard! She deserved it. You don't deserve to be here!"

The entire group was staring at him now.

"You have a sister?" Rylie said. For some reason this was the thing that surprised her.

Jason turned his hateful glare on her, but because she was not Jared he seemed to calm down momentarily. "Older by two years." He explained. "We grew up in Sontarr, in the poorer community. Our dad was abusive. He drank, he shouted, he went in and out of jobs more than a rabbit did into burrows. When he was at home, he took it out on us. Weekly kicks, belts across the back." He turned back to Jared, his flaming hatred igniting once more. "You think you've got it tough! You're dads a famous hero! You live in a nice house. You have money. Yet you cry about how you don't have a Quirk! Stop whining, you rich bastard! You didn't grow up like I did. You didn't have to protect your sister and mother from a monster each and every day! Why do you even want to be a hero? Because your perfect daddy is a hero? My dad was allowed to abuse us because no heroes thought it worthwhile to look out for domestic crimes. Where was your dad when that was happening? That's why I'm going to become a hero. I'm going to be a hero who stops this from happening to anyone else. I will make sure that no one has to suffer the way my sister and I did. I won't stop till I get there… and I won't let any of you pathetic, weak-minded bastards get in the way of that!"

There was a long, long silence.

No one knew what to say. It was not common for a person to drop such heavy emotional weight on another, and as such nobody knew how to deal with it. Ty was not the sort of person to get emotionally affected by another person's words, but Jason's story had made him shudder. It struck too close to home. His real home. The one which he had destroyed. He had had a father and a mother once. They were gone now. Because of him. Because of something he could not help, and yet he was completely responsible for. Because of his Quirk, his life had been a ruin, just like Jason's. Because of it, he had no fond memories of his parents. The only thing he could remember of them was the shouting, the looks of fear and terror, the distance they kept from him, the room in which they locked him. But unlike Jason he had nothing to fight for. He did not want to be a hero. He did not even want to be around people. He had no reason to be. All he had done in his life was cause pain and death and destruction.

"I-I'm sorry…" Jared muttered awkwardly. He looked very uncomfortable and miserable. Jason's insults had affected him in a way they usually did not. The fact that they were grounded this time made them hurt even more.

Aaren stepped up beside Jared, gave him a small kind look, and took the orb from his hand. "This will help heal you. Take it and get back up onto your feet. We'll wait for you to be ready." She placed the orb in Jason's hand, and surprisingly he did not try to fight her off. He gripped the orb in his fingers and clenched it tight. "You don't have to prove anything." Aaren told him, speaking with a tone much more sympathetic than she usually sounded. "We want to help you. We need to work together now, and that means we need your help, and whether you want to admit it or not you need our help too."

Jason did not respond. He was no longer crying, but his closed eyes still had tears lingering at their edges, ready to fall.

Aaren stood up again. "Join us when you're ready."

She turned back to the others. They stared at her expectantly.

"Alright." She stated, speaking in her usual stern and commanding tone. "Now that we're all together, we need to formulate a plan."

"You really think we can beat this guy?" Rylie said, glancing quickly at Jason. "I mean, he utterly wrecked Jason, and he was our best fighter. Can the six of us do much better?"

"Alone we don't stand a chance." Aaren agreed. "But if we work together, and create a plan of action, we might be able to do this."

"First we need to know more about our target." Elijah said. "It won't do much good formulating a plan when you don't know what you'll be facing."

"I saw him in action." Jared piped up, trying to regain his composer and some form of optimism. "When I was fighting him he would use air grenades to blast his opponents away, and to also move himself quickly out of range. He can fire impact, timed and mine explosives. I got him talking for a moment, and he mentioned that he can fire shock grenades, sound grenades and flash grenades as well." He paused. "But admittedly he did not mention smoke grenades, so it's possible he has more tools up his sleeve. He mostly tried to keep himself distant from us, but he can hold his own in physical combat too, and that cannon hurts when it hits."

"That's great, Jared. That will really help us." Aaren said. Jared blushed slightly, glad to receive praise.

"Yeah, that's very useful." Rylie joined it. She and Aaren exchanged a quick annoyed glance.

"So where do we begin?" Madge asked. "What should our plan be?"

A few seconds passed, and nobody suggested anything. It seemed for a moment that everybody was stuck on ideas. Then Jared raised his arm.

"I think I have something." He said. "I think I have an idea of where he'll be heading, and if he is going there then we can work this to our advantage."

"You've got a plan?" Elijah asked.

"It might not work…" Jared admitted humbly. "But if we do it right it should. But we'll need to work together to do this… all seven of us!"

* * *

 **I have a couple of things to mention offhandedly before ending this chapter.**

 **1st. Sorry for the long wait again. I did want to get this chapter out sooner, but I've been down with the sickness (not a joke) recently, as well as struggling to formulate my ideas, which I find to be the toughest part of writing.**

 **2nd. I wanted to try something new with this chapter, and that was splitting it between two points of view. I wanted to have short segment with Aaren receiving Jared's call but didn't want to dedicated it to one chapter, so I fused it to the beginning of this one. I hope this works okay. I might use this method again in future, but I do not plan to do this with every chapter. At most I'll use in one out of three chapters.**

 **3rd. I've been finding that this part of the story is tough to right. I'm personally not a big fan of writing massive combat segments, not just because they're difficult to write but they're also difficult to make interesting. I feel my strengths lie more in characters writing and dialogue, so I try to mix it into the fight centred chapters if I can. Sadly the next few chapters are going to be fight centered, so this may mean it will take me a while to upload new chapters. I will do the best I can to get at least one up every ten days or so, if not once a week. However, like with these last few chapters, it may take longer. I hope this is not to problematic. I want to take time with this story to make sure it works as best as it can. If anyone has any suggestions as to how I could improve my style or the story in general, feel free to say so. I don't mind criticism or assistance when offered. (Also, in regards to responses, thank you for the nice comments. I'm glad that people not only get enjoyment from this story but that they don't mind me taking time to upload. I feel much less bad at not uploading frequently now.)**

 **4th. (This one is not actually relevant to this story.) As well as working on this story, I've also been working on my own original work of fiction. Writing is one of my favorite pastimes, as it allows me to escape my dull and tedious life and create a brand new fantastical world. So I created one that's much more depressing than reality! I've just finished writing my first book, which is why I'm flaunting it on here! There's a link available to my Inkitt page (at least there is at the time of posting) where the book is uplaoded, so if anyone is interested in reading my own original works go ahead and check it out. Seriously, it would mean a lot. It's free to read, and I believe you can do so without needing an account but don't quote me on that!  
**

 **This is probably the longest note I've left on a chapter yet... so I'll end it here.**

 **Thanks for reading this far. Sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoyed. NO REFUNDS.**


	24. Chapter 22 - A Rock and a Hard Place

**Jon Laverick**

* * *

"Oomph!"

Jon Laverick went flying through the wall of a clothes store. He passed through several racks of various size shirts and jackets before landing on a table of laid-out folded trousers, which promptly collapsed under him. Chunky of wood and piles of clothing lay upon him, though he was currently in no mood to stand.

This was quite possibly the stupidest thing he had ever witnessed.

It had not taken Team Four very long to find their target. This was primarily because their target didn't seem to care if he was followed or attacked. In fact he seemed to welcome his attackers with open arms, and encouraged them to try and fight him. At first this had seemed to be a godsend, as Jon had assumed that would make their task quick.

An hour had passed since they had first encountered their target… and still they were fighting him.

The form of the Crusher shadowed the opening in the wall, large and bulky and menacing. His heavy footsteps made the ground shake. As the lighting within the store struck his body it revealed the truth of his endurance. He had skin like the side of a mountain; rugged, sharp, withered and as hard as compressed stone. The man was a walking, talking, sentient, humanoid rock. This unfortunately had created many problems for Jon and his team. The biggest issue was that no amount of punching, kicking, clawing or biting did anything to harm him. In fact it caused more severe injuries to the attacker, as his skin was so tough that it bruised the flesh of anyone stupid enough to strike it.

Jon at least had one advantage in this area. His feet, being made of thick iron, were not hurt by striking the criminal's tough rock skin, and, as he had eventually learned, could actually hurt the criminal if he kicked him in the right places. Though the usually drawback of his Quirk were causing him problems here too. His feet were heavy, and therefor slow to move. Because of this, he found it difficult to land any kicks and couldn't avoid the powerful swings of the Crusher. This was why he was now lying upon a pile of clothing and wooden splinters.

The Crusher took a step into the store, the soft floor creaking and concaving under his weight. The walls shook, and the lights flickered. As the light passed over his hard stone face, Jon could see the mark his foot had left upon the criminal's left cheek. The one attack he had made that had hurt him. He was rubbing it with thick, flat fingers.

"Get up!" Bellowed the Crusher in a thick cockney accent. "I ain't done fightin' yet!"

He rubbed his knuckles together, and was about to step further into the store, when a set of thick pale brown arms grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards. A second individual, about the same size, weight and width as the criminal. He hurled the Crusher back out of the store and onto the road outside.

This was one of the two Class Senior students who was assigned to their group; Adam Parrish. Jon had often seen him around the academy. It was very tough not to see him. He had a body the colour of dry clay and made almost entirely of muscle. Other than Jon, he was the only student in their team who was physically capable of fighting the Crusher head on. It was fortunate then that he had recovered from his recent fight with the man and was now rescuing Jon from a similar punishment.

He didn't pay Jon even a slight glance as he threw the criminal out onto the street. Jon was not too surprised by this, though that didn't mean he wasn't hurt. As the two large, bulky men stepped out of the building, with the words 'You wanna take this outside?!' echoing from the mouth of the stone hard criminal, a new figure appeared as a shadow in the open wall. This one was much smaller, the size of a normal human. Another figure followed it, attached to the first by an ethereal cord.

"Stop lying down on the job!" Teased Tate Anderson, giving Jon a mocking grin. "We've got a criminal to capture." His ghostly twin appeared beside him, the light of the sun passing through his body as if it were made of water. Mitchell looked eager to fight, rubbing his hands together with glee.

Jon pushed himself to his feet, a task that once had been tricky but was made trivial with years of practice. Though he did not exactly like either of the Anderson twins, he did admit that they had a way of motivating him, even if that motivation was simply for the sake of shutting them up.

"And how do you plan on helping with that?" Jon responded. Over the last hour of brawling with the stone miscreant, both Mitchell and Tate had done almost nothing to either assist their teammates or oppose their target. He doubted that would suddenly change.

"We'll improvise." Mitchell stated. Neither of them offered Jon a hand up, or checked to see if he was okay. They ran off, following the fight which was continuing outside. Jon followed them out a few seconds later, his ribs aching from the punch he had taken only a minute before.

The street was in chaos. Many of the buildings that once stood at the edge of the road were now either collapsed or barely standing upon only three walls. Their target's rampage through the western side of the COZ had left a trail of ruins in his wake. Though he had not been solely responsible for the property destruction. Team Four had also had a small part in the senseless destruction, as their attempts to fight the criminal had resulted in a couple of them being thrown into nearby walls with such force that the structure imploded. It was only fortunate that this training ground was uninhabited, else there would be a number of civilian casualties to add to their failings.

Jon stepped out of the collapsing clothes store, right as the roof began to creak and concave. Currently the other members of the team were watching Adam and the Crusher brawl at the other end of the street. Two large, tall, bulky men clashing fists and attempting to wrestle the other like a pair of squabbling earth giants. It was not especially unlike several fight Jon had seen between heroes and villains before, though admittedly he had seen them on the TV rather than in person. He'd even seen a few of his uncle's fights before. He was not quite as large or as muscular as Adam Parrish or the Crusher, but he had taken down opponents of similar size in fights that lasted less than ten seconds. Jon doubted he could reach that sort of skill, but what harm was there in trying.

"Is anyone going to help him?" Jon inquired, turning his bruised head to his unharmed companions.

"In a minute." Tate said. "I wanna see how this goes first."

"How it goes?" Jon repeated. "This isn't a WWE match!" Though, as he glanced back at the two fighting hulks and saw one of them pile drive the other into the road, he realised that this was not very far off. "We're supposed to work together in this exam, aren't we? Standing around and watching isn't going to help him."

"Then why are you standing around with us?" Mitchell reasoned, pointing out a fallacy in his statement. Jon went quiet. It wasn't easy to respond to such a rebuttal. Internally he knew that the reason he wasn't rushing in to help was because he doubted he could do much by himself. He knew that his kicks could hurt the criminal, but he wasn't especially keen on getting thrown through another building. His spine was still aching from the last time. It was by luck that had landed on a pile of clothes. He doubted he would be so lucky the second time. And the others had done nothing to help him that time either. They had just stood and watched, as Adam lay under a pile of rubble and Jon was swiftly hurled into a clothes store.

"You're panicking about nothing." Reasoned the other older student, a grey skinned, grey haired young woman named Naomi Sadler. "Adam's got this."

Like her fellow older student, Naomi Sadler stood out amongst the crowd of students, though not for the same reasons. She was extremely skinny, to the point where it was almost certainly unhealthy, and had bright Yellow eyes similar in shade and shape to a domestic cat. There was also the matter of her clothing, or rather her lack of clothing. Jon couldn't help but be distracted by the rather revealing pink cut-off shirt which she wore, as it barely fit her. It did almost nothing to hide her navel or cleavage. Any curves she did have were exaggerated by it. Here lower half was not much better protected. White shorts, knee-high boots and black stockings were the only things protecting her legs from the open air. It was hardly what one might call an 'appropriate' outfit. And it did not appear that Jon was the only person distracted by her clothing. Tate had taken a few glances in her direction, usually at times where he thought she wouldn't notice.

"All the same…" Jon began, "this exam requires that we work as a team in order to pass. This would go a lot quicker if we helped him, too."

"It'd go a lot quicker if you'd stop whining." Mitchell retorted, taking a quick, sneaky glance at Naomi's chest as he turned.

"He's got a point." Joined in Freya, the only other female member of their team.

Jon gave her a quick, surprised glare. "Who has?"

"You do."

Jon relaxed a little. "Oh. I thought you were siding with Tate and Mitchell."

"It's likely that the teachers are watching us right now." Freya reasoned with the others. "If we just stand around and watch Adam either win or lose this fight, we'll just look like we aren't interested. That probably won't help us pass this exam. Even if we don't do much of the fighting ourselves, we should at least try and help _him_."

Jon was a little surprised by Freya's eagerness and valid suggestions. He had already learned that she was a determined person, thanks to their regular track running across the Academy grounds which lead to them both being at the back of the class. He didn't doubt that she would put her heart and soul into this exam. What he hadn't expected was her efforts to get the group motivated. She had been the person to first initialise their chase of the Crusher after finding his trail of destruction, and she had also been the first to attempt to fight him. Though her spirit was as unyielding as a steel rod. Her body was not. One close scrape and she had been forced to abandon the fight for a little while, leaving it to the rest of the team. Her weakness was the same as Jon's. They both had impressive strength in once specific part of their body, and yet they lacked the speed or manoeuvrability to make such strength worthwhile. It is tough to hit an opponent who is quicker than you, no matter how strong you might be.

Strikingly, her suggestion was more motivating for the team than Jon's. The thought of being seen as incompetent was worse than being hurt in fight. Tate and Mitchell gave each other a quick confirming glance, only to then turn back to her and say "Sure, I see what you're getting at. If we don't act like we're doing something to help we might not pass this exam? Easy." The twins took a step forward each, and cracked their knuckles. Only Tate made a sound by doing this. It appeared that Mitchell's ghostly body did not create air pockets within the joints of his fingers.

"We're good at acting like we know what we're doing!" Mitchell stated, with the confidence and pride of a short man declaring that he was tall. Nobody could stop them from running off to face the criminal head on, not that any of their teammates would have tried.

Jon turned to the remaining three members of the team. "Anyone else?" He asked.

He could tell that Freya was already keen to help out. Her indomitable spirit was impressive as always. The other two were less keen however. Naomi didn't seem the least bit interested. Like the Anderson twins, she had done next to nothing to help the team out, except now the two younger boys were actually making an attempt. The other team member, who till this moment had been utterly quiet, was Niall Archer. He looked at Jon, his brown eyes narrowed and his spiky purple hair waving in the breeze of the street.

"Niall?" Jon asked, not expecting to get a positive response from the quiet, antisocial boy, but he had some hope.

Niall's thin mouth didn't twitch into either a smile or a frown. He turned away from Jon. "No." He muttered quietly.

"Why not?" Freya asked.

"I don't want to use my Quirk." He explained.

Jon recalled the one time their class had seen Niall's Quirk in use. It had been rather chilling, not so much in execution as in concept, especially once people had started questioning him about it. He had referred to his Quirk as _Commanding Voice_ , and, according to Niall himself, it worked as a sort of vocal manipulator. Putting it simply, if Niall makes a command then, unless specified, anyone who hears it has to obey it. They have no choice in the matter, their body is compelled to do as it is told, and it will not stop until either Niall tells the effected to forget his command or the set task is completed. He had only used it by choice once, on the unfortunate Olivia Fenn during the Combat Exam. The whole class had seen the terrifying efficiency of his Quirk in action that day. But the ability to control other people's actions was not quite the scariest part for Jon. The scariest part was that anyone under the influence of Niall's Quirk was completely aware of what they were doing, but because of it they could not stop themselves from performing the commands he gives. That was what unnerved Jon so much. The idea of losing control of himself, even for a moment, and letting someone else run around with his body. It was a fitting concept for the plot of a Twilight Zone episode.

As much as Jon would rather not witness this Quirk in action again, he was not foolish enough to not see the value in its use. Niall's Quirk could end the exam for them in three seconds. But he was completely unwilling to use it, even against a criminal. He had stated that he hated how his Quirk works, as it denies people their own free will and makes very difficult to hold a simple conversation without having to be careful of what he said. He admitted that sometimes he forgot this rule and accidentally made commands of other students, which unwittingly they had obeyed. Because of this he barely spoke to anyone, just in case he accidentally made a command of them.

"Okay then." Jon said, tugging at the collar of his grey t-shirt. "You two stay here, Freya and I will help the others."

"Right-o." Said Naomi, performing a rather wonky mock salute, which Jon ignored.

He and Freya turned to the brawl which was still continuing further down the street. A few more buildings had collapsed. The large, earth-covered individuals were exchanging punches like a pair of wrestling gorillas. Somehow Adam had gotten hold of a water bottle and had crushed it over his head. The areas of his skin which had been covered by water had turned soft and squishy, and he was proceeding to scoop them off his body in clumps and hurl them at his opponent. The Crusher was semi-coated in wet mud, which stuck his feet to the floor and his arms to his body. Jon had to wonder if it hurt Adam to remove his skin in such a way, but he supposed his body was probably used to this. It had to make washing and showering difficult for him though, and he couldn't imagine how annoying it would constantly be to take a bite from a sandwich and constantly taste the clay from your fingers on it. As for Tate and Mitchell, they had only just arrived on the scene of the fight. Apparently they were not as eager as they had suggested, as their run up to the fight had been slower than the average person's walking speed. They reached the fight, prepared to join in, and were promptly shoves aside by one of the crusher's swinging arms.

"Doesn't look like it's going so well." Freya muttered.

"No." Jon agreed, clenching his fist. "Let's change that."

It was only as they were two thirds of the way towards their rampaging opponent that Jon suddenly realised that he wasn't actually sure how he was going to change _that_. Sure, the more was often the merrier, and though some people would say otherwise numbers quite often won wars. But that logic was much easier applied to the past, when people were all the same. A well trained soldier was just as likely to lose against three opponents as the average citizen. But nowadays people had all sorts of crazy powers, thanks to the miracles that were Quirks. This criminal had a body like a mountain and a punch that could shatter a tectonic plate in half. Numbers were not likely to make very much of a difference against him. The only real advantage Jon or any members of his team had against this opponent was strategy. If they could create some sort of plan or tactic to outwit and overpower this hulking criminal then perhaps they could pass the exam. The issue with communication did not make that easy. Right now the only person willing to listen to him was Freya, but perhaps she was the only assistant he needed.

The Crusher was now throwing Adam backwards, as he had just attempted to grip him in a headlock. Jon and Freya were little more than ten metres from the fight, yet they could feel the reverberations of the impact as if it had happened right in front of them. Jon almost lost his balance, yet he kept running, heading for the large stone man opposing them. Without an opponent to pulverize for that second, the crusher looked around for a new target, and spotted the two new students approaching him. He didn't recognise Freya, as she had not yet risked her neck fighting him, but he recognised Jon. He gritted his teeth into a horrid grey smile, and pulled back his fist.

"I've got this." Freya said as they were less than five metres from the rapidly extending fist.

Jon was not at first sure of what she was about to do. She quickly shot past him, forcing the wheels of her chair to spin, increasing her speed by at least a mile every second. The crusher was turning his attention towards her, no sense of remorse in his eyes as he laid them upon the disabled young woman rolling towards him. He swung at her all the same, with a fist that shredded the air.

Freya was in front of the target now, about to be struck by his punch. Then, suddenly, she fell forwards. Her wheelchair sharply turned upwards, and her body fell out onto the ground. For a split second it looked like she had tripped. But then Jon realised that she had landed on her hands. It had been a purposeful fall. With her upper limbs pushing against the hard road, she thrust her much weaker lower half upwards, and shot into the air like a missile. The Crusher's punch narrowly missed her, striking the ground where she had been only moments before. Her wheelchair was thrown upwards with her, and it struck the Crusher in the chin.

Jon did not expect Freya's unusual attack to do so much damage. The stone skin around the Crusher's chin cracked under the impressive force of the thrown wheelchair. It had been so powerful an attack that it had knocked him senseless. The massive stone man stumbled backwards, chin turned upwards, gurgling with pain and gasping in shock. High above him Freya was now descending. She fell like a petal, yet when she landed she brought with her the gravitational force of an anvil. Her fists struck the stunned Crusher upon the forehead. There was a cracking sound, and then he collapsed. Freya landed on top of him, lying flat and quickly pulling herself up into a sitting position with her astonishingly strong arms.

By this point Jon, and the other students currently watching the fight, had fallen motionless, stopping whatever they were currently doing to watch the ground-shattering assault. Though the members from Class Junior were well aware of Freya's strength, thanks to her performance against Maisie Collard in the Combat Exam, but none of them had expected such an astounding move from her. Clearly she was not just packing impressive strength but she also had a quick thinking mind and a unique sort of creativity.

It did not immediately strike Jon, but Freya's attack had given him a perfect opportunity to make his own. Now that the criminal was lying flat on the ground he would be able to land one of his kicks using his heavy yet powerful metal feet. The disadvantage of speed wouldn't matter so long as he could still pull it off before his target got to his feet.

Without another moment's hesitation he set off once more, sprinting as fast as he could with hooves of thick iron. He led with his right leg, his favoured leg, the one which he would land the kick with. He had already landed one attack, and that had been while the opponent was distracted. This was a much better opportunity to do some real damage to him. Last time his kick had caused a dent in the Crusher's cheek. Perhaps this one would shatter his hard stone skin completely. He raised his right foot up, and swung it downward in an axe kick towards the Crusher's chest.

The massive criminal was beginning to recover from his recent attack when he saw Jon's leg swinging down towards him. By this point Freya had already realised what was happening and had crawled away before the attack could hit her as well. His flat, hairless stone head pivoted and his tiny brown eyes saw the heavy metal hoof descending sharply. But the Crusher was not as helpless as he seemed. Though he had just taken a powerful strike to the chin, which would probably knock any other person unconscious, he was still capable of moving. Though he was sluggish and dazed, she pushed himself up, and attempted to role aside.

It was by the width of a hair that Jon missed. The base of his iron foot struck the road right beside Crusher's shoulder, shattering the concrete and throwing splinters of pavement into the air. In the second before the attack struck, the Crusher had rolled to the right, turning onto his side and only just avoiding a strike that would have caved in his chest. Though this evasion was not as beneficial for the Crusher as it at first seemed. The ground where Jon's foot had struck and shattered the road was now sinking, the force of his kick continuing beyond the concrete external layer and causing the earth beneath to crumble and concave. Rapidly the area upon which the Crusher lay was sucked downwards into a cavity. It buried him up to his neck in dry earth and concrete.

The whole team of seven looked at the hole. Those who were close leaned in to pear into its depths. At the base they could see the Crusher's arm sticking out of the earth, almost completely buried. They then turned to each other.

"Bloody hell!" Tate muttered. "Couldn't you have done that earlier?"

"I had no idea that would happen." Jon told him, looking more stunned than any of them. "The ground here must not be very strong. It was probably already strained by his standing on it."

"Well, I don't think he's going to be getting back up any time soon." Adam said, folding his bulky arms and looking into the hole with a proud expression. "With any luck he'll be stuck down there for a while."

The problem with luck was that far too often it was not on your side.

There was a rumble from within the hole. The pile of earth that filled its base was moving. The limp arm of the buried Crusher was now clenching and squirming. And then he burst out of the ground like a marble potato. The pile of earth was sprayed across the circular walls of mud and rock and concrete fragments. The Crusher, looked up at the trainee heroes. He was very angry.

"Sod it!" He cursed. He turned sharply to the nearest wall, and with large, gripping fingers he began to scale it, rapidly ascending from the manmade pit which he had fallen into.

"What was that you said about him not getting back up?!" Tate asked, turning to Adam with annoyed – but more appropriately, scared – expression.

Adam, Freya and Jon didn't hear him. Their attention was focused solely upon the clambering Crusher, who was scrambling up the side of the pit with impressive speed. Being buried under a mound of earth had not stopped him. It hadn't even slower him down. If anything he was moving faster because he was annoyed. If being buried up to the neck could not stop this man then could any of them? The Crusher was now reaching up to grab the edge of the concrete road that remained around the hole.

"Jon!" Came Freya's urgent voice. Jon looked down at her. She was pushing herself up with her arms, while her limp feet trailed behind her like two tails. "Quickly, help me into my wheelchair!"

There was barely any time left before the Crusher would attack again. Jon didn't feel that he could risk sparing a second. But Freya would be next to useless while on the ground. If he left her lying there he would not only leave her unable to fight but he would be putting her in danger of being trampled. He couldn't bare the idea of a friend being hurt because he refused to act. He scooped the disabled young woman up into his arms and ran for her overturned chair, just as the Crusher pulled himself back up onto the surface.

He was met with a punch from Adam, but this was not enough to knock him back into the hole. He lost balance for a moment, but recovered quickly and grabbed Adam by the arm. He pulled himself close and head-butted his equally-sized opponent, causing him to stumble. Tate and Mitchell, who had taken a moment to regain their composure and attempt an attack themselves, lunged at the distracted stone giant. Tate punched him in the side… and instantly regretted doing so. He was sharply swiped aside by a bulky stone arm. Mitchell was more fortunate, as he could simply pass through the arm of the criminal, but like Tate his punches did nothing to hurt him. At the very least he was not hurt by trying, but neither did he do anything to damage the crusher's thick exterior or even gain his attention. The Anderson's were like ants trying to bite the hide of an elephant.

Within the five seconds in which the Crusher had regained control of the fight, Jon had returned Freya to her wheelchair. He turned back to see the chaos that was unfurling behind them.

"We had him trapped down there." Jon muttered, momentary despair taking over. "But he just crawled back out again.

"It's not over yet." Freya reassured him. She gripped the rim of her wheels and sped back towards the fight, leaning forwards upon her seat. Her scruffy blonde hair flew behind her like a yellow flag.

The Crusher saw her approaching, and grinned maliciously. "Trying the same trick again?" He said cockily. "Well that won't work twice." He extended one hand out to grab the girl, while his other rested under his chin.

Jon followed after her, but she was already far ahead of him, the wheels of her chair spinning so fast that they left marks upon the road. She had already reached their target by the time Jon had taken ten steps. It appeared that she would attempt the same attack as before, leaning forwards to throw herself onto the ground. The Crusher was blatantly prepared for this, and as she approached he pulled his readied arm back and swung it towards her, fingers curling inward. But then Freya pushed down upon her left wheel, causing it to sharply stop rotating and dig into the road. The other wheel continued to turn however, and with a sudden jolt the chair changed direction. Right as she was about to be grabbed, she turned right, continuing to roll around the opponent instead of towards.

The Crusher's reaction was slow. In his eyes the girl had suddenly gone flying to his left. As he was turning his head to follow her, he saw the blur of yellow hair at the corner of his eye, and a pail extending blur that was her fist. For someone who seemed so weak, Freya was incredibly strong. She had thrown Maisie over her shoulder as if she were a rag during the combat exam. The punch she landed against the crusher's side did not have quite the same effect, but it was still impressive. The rocky skin upon his torso cracked and began to flake away. As for the man himself, he was bushed several inches backwards, gasping and retching. Freya continued to circle around him, moving like a wolf attempting to herd a bull bison. She was keeping her distance, knowing that her opponent could just as easily squash her, while also taking risky shots at his legs, stomach and back.

It was impressive to watch her. So impressive that Jon felt he would ruin the moment if he tried to help. It took a few seconds for the danger of the situation to again be recalled by his brain. As much as Freya was doing amazingly well, she was much smaller and frailer than the Crusher. She had to get lucky every time she attempted an attack or a dodge. He only had to get lucky once. He and the others had to start assisting her soon, or Freya might end up in something a bit more restrictive than a wheelchair… like a full body cast.

Thankfully he was not the only one of them to realise this. While Tate and Mitchell had officially turned coward and left the fight, Adam Parrish was making an effort to join in. He was left dazed by the strike he'd taken to the noggin, but now it seemed he was recovering. He had gotten to his feet and was stomping towards the Crusher, pounding his clay fists. Jon supposed that this was a better time than any to assist them. He continued his run, making leaps with his heavy feet weighing him down. Each leap moved him forwards by about twelve inches. This was faster than he had ever gone before, and even then he barely reached the average running speed of a normal person. Freya was still dodging and weaving around the Crusher, avoiding his punches and the occasional kick, even passing under his legs to land a rather uncouth punch to the groin. It appeared that that specific attack had smarted quite a bit. But the Crusher was growing wiser to her tactics. With each dodge she made he came closer to landing his hits, even attempting two separate attacks at once to try and strike her as she went to escape. Freya was clearly sweating. Her hands were red raw from turning the wheels of a chair.

And then one of her hands slipped, letting go of the wheel.

She couldn't stop herself from turning towards the Crusher, he stood to her left, swinging a punch low towards her chest. At the last moment Freya regained composure and twister her chair away, trying to avoid the attack. But she was not fast enough. The large stone fist struck the side of her wheelchair, shattering it into pieces. Freya was thrown backwards, rolling across the ground.

Jon had almost reached the Crusher when she was hit. He watched her tumble and roll upon the road, until she finally stopped and lay motionless on her side. A horrifying, sickening sensation filled his throat. Without another thought, he turned from the Crusher and instead ran towards her. He wasn't sure why, but he was compelled to assist her. All thought of their target left his mind. It was fortunate for him that the Crusher's attention was turned away from Freya. Adam had now riser to action once more, and had grappled him around the waist with both arms. The two equally sized and strengthen men were wrestling upon the street.

Freya was attempting to push herself up when Jon reached her. That at least was a relief. If she could stand – or rather sit – up by herself then she couldn't be too badly injured. But as he reached her he saw the bruised upon her side where she had rolled across the ground, and upon her cheek was a long gash that trickled blood.

"Are you okay?" Jon asked, kneeling down beside her.

"Yeah." She said, not sounding so honest, but Jon supposed that she was probably trying to stop him from worrying. "Bastard smashed my wheelchair, though." She looked back at the fragments of chair and two bent wheels that had been her only method of movement.

"We don't stand a chance against him." Came a voice to their left. The two of them turned, and saw Tate and Mitchell hiding in the doorway of a currently untouched electronics shop.

"What are you two doing over there?" Jon snapped at them, appalled to see them cowering away while he, Freya and Adam were risking their lives fighting a dangerous criminal.

"Avoiding serious harm." Mitchell told them. "You should probably do the same. Without a wheelchair she can't move, and she was the only person here who was actually hurting him."

Jon was annoyed to realise that he was agreeing with Anderson twins on something. Without her Wheelchair, Freya couldn't fight. She could still move by crawling, but that would leave her completely vulnerable to the Crusher's attacks, and she wouldn't be able to reach him from ground level.

"Perhaps we should get you out of here." Jon suggested to her. He would have spoken further, if he had not seen the determined look on Freya's face. Such a stare had the power to shut up any argument.

"No, I can still fight." She insisted. "I just need some help." She turned sharply to the Anderson twins. "Tate, I need you to lift me up."

Tate looked at her, blinking. "You what?" He asked.

"My wheelchair's been smashed, so I need someone to carry me." She explained.

He continued to look at her, as if the idea of carrying a disabled person was offensively bizarre. "Really?"

"I can't do very much to help from down here, can I?" She reasoned.

"I'll carry you." Jon offered. He, at the very least, was prepared to rush into danger. But to his surprise Freya shook her head.

"No, that won't work. I need someone who can move fast in order for this to work."

Jon was a little offended, but he understood that she didn't mean it in an unkind way. It was true, he couldn't move very fast. That probably wouldn't benefit Freya, who had been able to move very quickly with her wheelchair.

"You want me to carry you towards that big ugly rock guy over there?" Tate said, nodding his head towards the Crusher, who was currently repeatedly pummelling Adam in the stomach. "No thank you, I'm quite happy standing here and watching." He and Mitchell folded their arms in defiance.

Freya huffed in annoyance. "Look, I can help you bring down the big guy with my upper body strength, but thanks to my weaker lower half I can barely stand by myself. I need someone to be my lower half for me, and you're the best option available since you're not slowed down by your own Quirk. You've' also got Mitchell, he can protect you in case the Crusher tries to hurt you too."

Tate looked away for a moment, running the idea through his head. Evidently he was smart enough to see how such a plan could work, but he was too much of a coward to go with it. After a moment he turned back, looking a little awkward. "What's in it for me?" He asked, his brow narrowed cautiously.

"You get to pass the exam with us." Freya said, her expression unwavering.

It appeared that Tate had forgotten that they were currently in an exam. One of the rules had been that they needed to work as a team not just to capture their target but to pass the exam itself. Their cowardice would probably not go down to well with the teachers. If Tate and Mitchell failed the exam, would they have to retake it?... by themselves…?

"Alright." Tate stated after a few seconds.

"We'd better not regret this." Mitchell stated after him.

"You can't get hurt!" Jon reminded the ghostly boy. "What do _you_ have to worry about?"

"If Tate gets knocked out or even killed, I stop existing." Mitchell explained. "I am just a Quirk after all. I exist because he exists. If his lights go out, so do mine."

Jon had not been aware of this fact. Neither of the twins had brought it up before. It did make sense, but it also made him wonder about certain aspects of their lives. For example; did Mitchell stop existing while Tate was asleep?

Tate approached Freya awkwardly. He reached down, grabbed her under the arms, and lifted her up from the ground. He shifted his arms till they gripped her around the stomach, while her legs hung limply down, almost touching the floor.

"Right." Freya announced, looking proud of their innovation. "Now we can jump back into the fray."

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever seen." Mitchell muttered from beside them.

"I can't see." Tate muttered from somewhere behind her.

"I'll tell you where to go." Freya instructed down to him.

"Will this work?" Jon asked, watching the usual circus act unfurling before him. Freya was now almost as tall as The Crusher and Adam.

"Almost certainly." She reassured him. Jon found that his mind was focusing upon the _almost_ part of that sentence. "Now, let's finish up this fight." She paused. "Oh, and, Tate…"

"Yeah?"

"That's my breast you're groping."

"Right. Sorry."

His arm shifted slightly. From the place he was standing Jon could see the two brothers' wink at each other.

"Forward, men!" Freya commanded, thrusting out her arm and pointing towards the still fighting giants.

"Yes ma'am." The three boys blurted out in unison. The way Freya spoke had an unusual effect upon them. She spoke so commandingly. It was as if she had spent most of her life commanding soldiers, like some sort of general. Jon had to restrain the urge to salute her.

Together the four of them charged in to fight. It was a weird sensation for Jon, sprinting towards a massive opponent made of stone with three – well, technically two – of his fellow students supporting him. It awoke a sense of pride in his heart. Pride not just in himself but in them as well. They had worked through this course over the last couple of months and made it this far, to the second of their exams. Now they were working together to face their toughest obstacle yet. It would have probably been a beautiful sight to observe from afar.

They reached their opponent together. Jon had been just about able to keep up with Tate and Mitchell, though Freya had instructed that they slow down so he didn't fall behind. It didn't bother him that they were letting him catch up. The fight mattered more at this moment. The Crusher paused mid punch, spotting them approaching out of the corner of his eye. He turned, seeing now the three teenagers and one Quirk running towards him. He had fought them all before, but now instead of fighting separately they were working together to take him on as one unit. Such a sight might have scared a smaller, fleshier person. But the Crusher just grinned, and rubbed his knuckled.

"This'll be fun." He muttered, grinning gleefully.

The attack that followed was short. With only a metre between them and the Crusher, the quadrio split up. Freya and Tate continued their run towards the target, while Jon moved to the left and Mitchell to the right. They made an attempt to circle around their massive target and attack him from multiple sides at once. What was odd was that none of this had been planned. Jon was truly surprised when he realised that none of them had gone in the same direction and collided. That in itself was impressive.

Their assault then began. Freya went first, throwing a punch towards the Crusher's head. He blocked her attack with the back of his arm, but was still injured by the force of the punch, as the rocky skin on his arm cracked. Then it was Mitchell's turn. He jumped onto the Crusher, grabbing him around the waist and clinging on, his body half-passing through his stone body. The criminal made an attempt to swat the ghostly boy off of him, bellowing phrases such as 'Gerroff me!', but his arms simply passed through his mistral body. Finally it was Jon's turn to attack. He attempted something he had never tried before, due to his legs being as heavy as a set of weightlifter's dumbbells. He jumped off the ground, moving about five inches off the floor, swung his legs upwards, pulled them into his chest, and kicked out.

There was a loud crack. A second later, the Crusher went flying into a building. He passed through several walls before finally coming to a stop upon a pile of rubble, which was much less comfortable than a pile of clothes.

Jon landed on his side, wincing. He looked up, and saw the massive hole which the criminal had sailed through. The others were staring at the wall. They then turned to him, with an expression similar to the one they had when they had seen the hole they left in the ground.

"Dude." Tate said in stunned amazement. "I don't wanna know how many beds you've broking in your life with those things."

"A lot." Jon admitted with embarrassment. But he found that he smiled at that remark. It was rather complementary considering what the Anderson brothers usually said to people.

The fight was not over yet, however. Through the gap in the wall stomped the Crusher, now more enraged than ever. The cracks upon his face which suggested wrinkles were growing thicker and clustered, and his tiny eyes narrowed even further.

"Kicked me through a damn wall!" He muttered, growling from the back of his throat. "So you wanna get serious, do ya!" The crusher yelled, his attention now focused like a laser beam upon Jon. He punched the side of the wall, and it shattered. "Alright then! Let's get serious!" The massive, overpowering criminal ran at Jon, arms outstretched to grab him and squash him.

And then…

"STOP!"

The shout echoed across the street, spoken by a stern voice which the students of Broadhurst Heroism Academy barely heard.

Everyone stopped. Even the Crusher stopped. His leg was half raised in a stepping motion, and it hung there as he looked down at it in confusion. "What!?" He exclaimed.

Jon couldn't move a simple part of his body. He stood stock still, frozen to the spot, unable to even turn his head. He could hear footsteps approaching to his right. Then the figure entered his vision. Two figures. Niall Archer and Naomi Sadler. The memory of Niall explaining his Quirk shot through his brain. This didn't make him feel any more relaxed about this situation.

"Oh now you guys choose to help us!" Mitchell shouted, still hanging from the waist of the Crusher. He had apparently been thrown through the building with the criminal. He was probably not too happy about that. Like Jon, he and the others couldn't move at all. They were frozen in place like statues.

"I got bored of watching." Niall explained. "I wanted this exam to end already."

"Why didn't you do this in the beginning?" Adam snapped.

Niall didn't respond. Instead he turned towards the Crusher, who was staring at him with the same rage.

"What did you do to me?!" He bellowed.

"I told you to stop, and you did." Niall explained simply. "My Quirk makes it so that anyone who hears a command I make has to follow it, whether they want to or not."

The Crusher growled furiously. "What the fu-"

"The Crusher will shut up!" Niall instructed. The Crusher's mouth closed before he could finish the word, and it stayed shut for the rest of the day.

"Mind undoing us now?" Tate asked, "My arms are beginning to ache."

"Everyone except for the criminal known as the Crusher may forget my commands." Niall stated aloud.

Jon sagged, suddenly regaining control over his body. The others seemed to go through a similar experience. Tate nearly dropped Freya, while Mitchell let go of the crusher's body and landed on his back upon the floor. Adam, who had been stood still before the command, felt his knees go weak and nearly fell backwards.

"Why didn't your Quirk affect her?" He asked, pointing at Naomi.

The provocatively dressed woman reached up to her ears, pulled out a clump of cotton from each, and said "What?!"

"She couldn't hear me." Niall explained.

"So that's it?" Freya said. "It's over, just like that?"

They looked at the Crusher, still frozen in mid motion, raging silently at them. They then turned towards Niall, who wore his usual emotionless expression.

"This feels really anticlimactic, doesn't it?" Tate muttered.

"You two didn't do anything this whole exam," Adam blurted out in anger, "And then you suddenly show up and end the fight in one word, taking all the credit?!"

"Not like you didn't take any yourself, babe." Naomi spoke up, smiling slyly. "You and he were having a pummel party for most of the exam. Look at the good that did."

"I was at least trying to do something most of that time." Adam retorted. "What have you done to help any of us?"

"Need I remind you of last Thursday night?" Naomi retorted with a cunning grin, "When you and I grabbed exactly ten minutes together in the shed at the back of the academy grounds?"

Adam's pale clay cheeks flushed an even paler shade of pink. "You said you wouldn't speak about that!" He growled, gritting his teeth.

"What happened?" Asked Tate, thoroughly lost.

"What should we do with this guy then?" Jon interrupted, swiftly changing the direction of the conversation towards something appropriate.

"Leave him like that." Freya reasoned. "We don't need to worry about fighting him now." She paused, turning to Niall. "Do we?"

He shook his head. "He won't be able to do anything till the effect wears off."

"How long will that take?" asked Mitchell.

"It won't wear off until he completes the request or until I tell him to stop." Niall explained. "And , since the command was to stop moving, he should stay this way until he falls over, which could take anywhere between one to ten hours."

"So we just sit around and wait till then?" said the now much calmer Adam.

"Suppose so." Said Tate.

The group of students sat together, waiting for the hours to pass, the statue-like criminal standing in a mid-running pose between them.

Jon sat with his head in his hands, counting the seconds as they passed. This wasn't how big battles usually ended. His uncle never won a fight like this. There was always that one amazing, powerful move that brought the criminal, or sometimes the hero, to their knees. It wasn't supposed to end with the uttering of a single word, and with everyone waiting for several hours till an allotted amount of time had passed.

"You're right, Tate." He said eventually. "This does feel very anticlimactic."

* * *

 **So this chapter is a bit different to the last few. I was not originally planning to write a Chapter with Jon. But I had a moment where I realised I had done only one chapter before and I was planning two wrap up this part of the story in only a couple of chapters after this one, and none of those chapters were going to be following Jon. So I thought it's be a good idea to give him at least two chapters for this act of the story before the next. The next chapter will be the one that was originally supposed to be in this one's place.**

 **I also thought that, because the last several chapters have been quite serious, it would be better to have a more lighthearted chapter right now. I hope that the humor in this chapter isn't too bad or too tone-destroying.**


	25. Chapter 23 - The Hacker

**Maisie Collard**

* * *

The flashing light was annoying. The red glare off the rotating bulb above her head blinded her eyes when she looked at it and attracted her attention when she tried to look away. There also the blaring alarm which constantly blasted through speakers both inside and outside of the building. If the COZ had been populated, no doubt a horde of policemen would have stormed the building by now. But instead it was just the seven of them; five teenagers and two adults.

Maisie Collard covered her ears and squinted her eyes. The others did not seem to be struggling so badly with the sound but it was clearly annoying them. The moth-like wings upon Payton Moon's back shuddered in rhythm to the alarm. It appeared that he was suffering the second worst out of them, only coping with the sound a bit better than Maisie, and underneath his hair she could see his thin ears fidgeting.

"Could someone shut that thing off?" He stated loudly over the sound.

Lu Xiong walked across the lobby of the bank towards the far counter, stood before the glass window and peered past into the void of drawers and files and swivel chairs beyond.

"Don't see a switch." He called back, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses back onto the ridge of his narrow nose.

"It's probably under the desk!" Payton shouted over the din. "That's usually where it is in the movies!"

"Stand back already!" Shouted Barbara Faraday, who was rubbing her hands together, creating a sparking friction from her palms. She shoved Payton aside and ran across to Lu, who was waiting beside a glass door with a heavy electronic lock "I'm hoping this will work." She muttered.

"What are the chances that it won't?" Lu asked her.

"Dunno. Maybe one in four. It tends to work in movies." She separated her hands, and within the gap between them formed a sudden and sharp array of sparks. "If it doesn't work, we'll probably be locked out completely."

She pointing her hands at the lock and spread her fingers wide. From her fingertips jumped a long, thin bolt of static electricity, which struck the electronic lock and made the metal exterior fizzle and hiss. Something went pop, and then the lock exploded, sending small pieces of metal flying across the room and leaving several burned wires exposed. A seconds later there was the sound a lock clicking and the glass door swung ajar.

Before it had even finished opening, Barbara and Lu had burst into the room. With a swift movement Lu was under the table, and from behind the protective glass Maisie could see him raise up a thumb and shout "Got it!"

The blaring alarm sharply stopped, the flashing red light faded, and the room descended into silence.

Now that the sudden rush of sensory input was now gone, Maisie felt capable of thinking straight once more. She looked around the room. It had been strangely easy to gain access to the bank. She would have thought that such a place would be heavily locked and defended. But then she and her companions were not the first people to have entered the building. They had not been the ones to set off the alarms.

They had been tracking their target across the COZ, into the depths of the central area, where the majority of major buildings were located. They had passed a large police station on their way, as well as a radio tower, a major hospital and a rather impressive palace. The people who had constructed this place had put a lot of effort into the detail, even though no one was supposed to live in these places. Though their target seemed to be far from their grasp, they had left a trail by which to follow them. Several electronic signs, posters and boards had been altered throughout the central district, usually to show a varying style of arrow pointing in a desired direction, or giving an instruction such as "go left" or "take the second alley". They had taken a moment to discuss who had been altering the signs and why. It was most likely their target, who had been hinted at having a talent for utilizing technology, but then what motive would they have for helping the people trying to capture them? Some of the group had suggested it was a trap, which was plausible, but with nothing else to guide them they eventually agreed that their best option was to do as the signs said, and follow them hopefully to the location of their target.

The trail had taken them deem into the cluster of buildings and windings streets, until finally it stopped here, at the massive royal bank stationed almost at the very centre of the COZ itself. It was a towering building, made of hard yellow stone and styled after classical medieval castles. The only thing it was lacking was a mote and drawbridge. The twin wood doors had been wide open when they arrived, and through internal and external speakers an alarm was sounding. This had to be the place where their target, the Hacker, was hiding.

Now that they had dealt with the alarms, the next problem was finding their target. Fortunately they had a man for that.

Through the open doorway walked the two Class Senior members of their team; Nicholas Hauser and Felix Hunter. Maisie had met the two of them before, though she had never spoken to them. They both took the Self-Defence classes on Wednesday evenings. Apparently their Quirks were not especially suited for combat situations, but from a short discussion at the beginning of the exam they would be of some use in finding and capturing their target. Maisie was usually rather nervous around other people, as she had been when she first met Jared and when she started studying at BHA. She didn't feel this nervousness when she was near Nicholas. Something about him made her feel so relaxed. He had a disarming smile and honest eyes. Payton had told them that he had been a therapist before changing career and deciding to become a hero. Maisie could believe that. If there was anyone in the world who she would be prepared to open up to and speak with about personal strife, it would be him.

"Any sign of our target?" Asked Nicholas as he entered the building.

The four junior students looked across at him, and each instantly relaxed from the tension naturally created by the alarms.

"Other than the alarm, no." Payton said, walking with the other two back across the lobby to meet with the rest of the team. "Haven't heard a whisper."

"That's sort of the point of whispering." Lu said, straight-faced. Payton shot him a chastising glance.

"If they're here, it's likely they'll be hiding from us." Barbara reasoned, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her eyes and adjusting the collar of her black punk jacket. "Call it a hunch, but I doubt a criminal who calls themselves _The Hacker_ is the sort of person to face a hero in close quarters combat."

"You're probably right there." Nicholas agreed with her. He paused, and looked around. "Hang on… Isn't there supposed to be seven of us?"

His sudden comment made the rest of the team realise that they were missing someone. The fifth class junior student. They looked around for a few seconds, only to then spot her standing in the doorway of the bank, sweating heavily. Catherine Griffith was clad – as she usually was – in a mass of winter coats, which made her look much larger than she probably was. She had been struggling to keep up with the group for most of their journey through the COZ, and had only just now reached them. Sweat was trickling down from her forehead and across her face. Maisie squirmed in her dress at the thought of how hot she must be under all that clothing. It was probably like wearing a sauna. She leaned against the door, looking away from her staring companions with embarrassment.

"Here she is." Stated Payton. "And she's brought a whole coat rack with her."

That last part was perhaps a little insensitive, Maisie thought. Though she couldn't help but wonder why the girl needed so much clothing, either. Surely it was more of a detriment than an advantage. It wasn't even that cold today.

Payton got an unimpressed look from Nicholas and Barbara for his comment, though Catherine herself just looked down at the floor pitifully. She was ushered towards the group by Nicholas' gentle hand, and now that the seven of them were together once more they could start working towards their goal of capturing the criminal known as the Hacker.

"So, to the matter of our target…" Clarified Nicholas, "We should go over the details before we make any decisions. What do we know about the Hacker?"

"We know that they're female." Said Barbara. "The photo we were shown was clearly of a woman, and Mrs Broadhurst even referred to her as ' _she'_."

"A good start." Nicholas told her. "Any other points?"

There was a moment of quiet thought, before Lu spoke up.

"Madam said that she was drawn to money and information." He recalled.

"Well, this place would fit he bill." Payton said. "Need money? Go to the bank."

"Yes…" spoke up Barabara, "…but information?"

"You'd be surprised." Payton explained. "Most banks keep customer details and data on their servers. Imagine if a criminal gained that sort of information? They could access the account of everyone registered at that bank. She's probably after that more than anything."

"A fantastic point." Nicholas agreed.

"If she calls herself the Hacker, it's likely she'll be near a computer." Felix stated, providing his first piece of input into the discussion. "That will probably narrow down the rooms we should search."

"That would also suggest that she has a talent for computer programming." Lu interjected. "Then she might have found a way to break into the bank's network and altered the security systems."

"She might have set traps for us?" Nicholas rubbed his chin. "Then I suggest we move carefully."

"So then, where do we start searching first?" Payton asked, folding his arms across his chest. "Anyone got a map of this place on hand?"

In his own way Payton had brought up a valid point. None of them had been to this location before, and as such none of them knew their way around. It was unlikely that a bank would have an internal map on hand, probably because most of the rooms would be off access to the general public anyway. Fortunately for Team Three, they had a member who had a way of getting around this obstacle.

"Give me a second." Felix stated, taking a step away from the group and towards a nearby pillar.

Of the seven members who made up Team Three, Felix was the one with the most abnormal Quirk. It was not a flashy Quirk, or a powerful Quirk, or even that impressive a Quirk. He had explained it during their journey through the COZ, though he had done so in a more hushed and less proud manner than Nicholas. His Quirk provided him with a sort of clairvoyance, though only for buildings. If he placed his hands upon the foundations of any man-made structure, he would instantly know the complete layout of the structure, even if he had not been there or seen it before. He had called it _cartography_ , as the image of the building's layout apparently appeared to him as a map inside his head. Maisie had never heard of a clairvoyant type Quirk before. It did not sound too dissimilar to her own Quirk, though hers allowed for a little more variety than simply mapping out a building.

Felix placed his hands flat on the cold marble and pressed them against the stone for several seconds. Then he pulled away, blinking and wiping his hands upon his dark green jumper. "There's a series of vaults underneath us. Chances are she's looking for a way to unlock them. Might be best for a couple of us to head down there and look in case she's already found a way to open them. The rest of us should head upstairs. There's a corridor heading left from the stairs which leads to several separate computer rooms and storage rooms."

"Sounds like a plan." Payton said.

"Felix should go with the upstairs team, in case our target isn't where we expect her to be." Nicholas suggested.

"I'm with upstairs team!" Payton declared sharply. "I'm not missing out on a chance to fight this criminal."

"She might not even _be_ upstairs." Barbara reminded him.

"It's more likely she'll be up there than down here." He told her. "There's more rooms up there, more places to hide."

"I'll head downstairs." Lu stated loudly. "If she's hiding in one of the vaults, I can use my X-rays to see he through the walls."

"Unless they're lead lined." Payton added, looking cheekily back at Lu.

"And if she is down there, what do you plan to do?" Barbara asked him judgementally. "We all saw your fight with Billie. Your X-rays do nothing."

"That's not true!" Lu snapped hotly. "If I focus them they can cause a light fuzzing sensation."

"And cancer!" Payton added, again reviling in mocking his Asian colleague.

Barbara looked at the both of them and sighed. "I'll go with him." She said.

Lu and Payton looked at her in surprise. "Really?" they both said.

"My Quirk's is the only one here that's really suited to combat." She explained. "You five shouldn't have too much of a struggle if you work together. If the Hacker does turn out to be downstairs, Lu isn't going to do too well by himself, is he."

Lu was staring at her through his glasses. His expression was that of a boy who had never expected a girl to want to spend time with him. He tried very hard not to smile with joy.

"Then the rest of us will look upstairs." Nicholas decided. He then turned sharply on his heels. "Maisie, Catherine, do either of you object?"

Maisie jolted, as attention was sharply turned to her. She had been paying attention to everything which had happened to this point. The trouble was that she had not felt a need to say anything, and as a result she had just stood with the group, looking quietly forwards. It struck her that she must look like she did not care what was happening.

"Uh…" She said quickly and nervously. Everyone was looking at her, and since most of them were taller than she was they were also looking down on her. It was quite intimidating to be in the gaze of giants. "I'm… fine?" She said after a pause so large it could swallow a planet.

Nicholas looked silently down upon her… and then nodded. "Okay." He said. He then turned towards Catherine. She said nothing, only nodded. "Right then." He tapped his foot and grinned eagerly at the group. "Let's get moving!"

With a plan in motion, the team dispersed into its two groups. Barbara and Lu would explore the vaults downstairs, while Maisie, Catherine, Payton, Nicholas and Felix would explore upstairs.

"Very nice of you to team up with me." Maisie heard Lu whisper to Barbara as they walked towards a set of descending stairs.

"Shut up!" Barbara whispered back.

* * *

Maisie reached the top step, clinging to the wooden banister with a tight grip. She had very nearly slipped on loose segment of red carpet a few steps down and had almost struck her face on the edge of a step above. After that, she had taken each step with excessive caution. Payton, Felix and Nicholas were already at the top, looking about and checking through the windows on the nearest doors in case their target was hiding in the room behind. The only student still behind her was Catherine, and she was not as keen as they were to find their opponent. Maisie had asked if she was alright, in an awkward attempt to start a conversation. Catherine had looked away, choosing not to respond. Now Maisie felt uncomfortable. Did Catherine hate her? Had she done anything to make Catherine hate her?

"You said these rooms were on the left?" Payton said, pointing down the hall ahead of them.

"Yes, just around that corner up there." Felix explained, placing his hands back into the pockets of his jeans.

"What about this way?" Maisie asked, pointing at a second hallway, leading away to the right of the stairs.

"That's just offices down there." Felix explained. "They'll have computers, sure, but the rooms down here will have the main storage units and local network which each computer connects to. It would be more beneficial for a hacker to work from there, where they can get complete access to everything."

Maisie had felt for a moment that her suggestion was a useful one, but Felix had shot her down. She suspected that he would, though it didn't make her feel any less ashamed for such a stupid idea.

They went down the hallway ahead of them. Upon turning the left corner at its end, they saw three closed doors, two to the right side and one to the left.

"Are these the rooms?" Nicholas asked.

"Should be." Felix said quietly.

Payton pushed open the nearest door. Inside was a large room full of many metal tables, upon which sat a collection of bulky computers with multiple wires spreading out the back of each. They clustered in piles upon the floor underneath each table. Each computer was plugged into one of several extensions leading from wall sockets around the room. Other than this mess of wiring and computers, there was nothing else within the room.

"Nothing here but a bunch of PCs." He called to the others, who had moved on to examine the other two rooms.

Maisie looked into the room on the left. Like the one Payton had glanced into, the room was full of computers but absent of almost anything else. There wasn't a suggestion of life within, not even a cobweb.

"It's very empty." She muttered to herself. "Perhaps no one's been here in a long time."

"There should be more cobwebs then." Payton agreed. "That or spiders have a serious aversion to banks."

"Hello." Stated Nicholas in an intrigued voice. Maisie turned to him. It had not been an exclamation directed at a person, more a deceleration of surprise. He was standing in the open doorway of the third and furthest room. She and the others walked across to him. Through the doorway was another room, exactly the same in shape, size and contents to the previous two… except for one small difference.

At the back of the room came a repeating flash of light, originating from the monitor of one of the computers. One of the machines was alive and running.

"Someone's been here recently." Reasoned Nicholas. "And they forgot to turn their machine off."

"What an awful waste of power." Felix muttered in disapproval.

"Any sign of life in there?" Payton asked, not quite able to see past the two older students stood in his way.

"No. There's no one here." Nicholas told him, not looking back. "We'd best take a look. Maybe whoever's been here left something behind, or open on the machine."

The two older students entered inside, and Payton followed quickly after them. Maisie almost followed them in, when she stopped and turned back down the hallway. A strange sensation had suddenly sparked through her brain. The sensation that someone was watching her. Catherine was nearby, having decided to stay standing out in the hallway, but it was not her who was creating this sensation. It was not the kind of feeling she got when she knew that her friends or companions were looking at her. That was simple social anxiety. This was a more abnormal feeling. Something far away was looking at her, from a place where she could not look back.

The three boys were inside the room, inspecting every corner and gathering around the flashing computer screen. Maisie glanced inside and watched them from the doorway. Felix took hold of the mouse and began sliding and clicking the little black shape.

"Can you make any sense of this?" Nicholas asked, the light of the monitor illuminating his face in the dark room.

"No." Felix said. "Computer's aren't really my talent. It looks like a list of finances."

"The Hacker did this?"

"Most likely."

"Then Payton's right, she's after more than just what is in the vaults."

Payton smiled with glee, proud that his suggestion had been taken seriously.

Maisie felt another shudder of the same sensation. It was still there, the feeling that she was being watched. A pair of eyes were looking at her back, staring at her spine. It made her feel vulnerable, exposed. She turned around. Nobody was there, except Catherine, who looked back at her with a shy expression.

"Are you okay?" Maisie asked awkwardly, trying to shake of the sensation.

Catherine shrugged. "Yeah." She muttered.

Maisie looked around the hallway. Something was off, but she couldn't pinpoint what.

"Do you feel like you're being watched?" She asked after a few seconds of silence. It was probably a stupid question to ask, she told herself. People don't usually say things like that to each other. It was probably just anxiety getting to her. The stress of the exam was extenuating her nerves.

Maisie was surprised when Catherine stared back at her… and nodded. "Yeah." She said, shivering slightly.

Maisie blinked. So it was not just her that felt this way. Catherine too feel that she was being watched. The chances of the both of them imagining it was possible but not likely.

Sharply she turned back to the open doorway. "Payton." She hissed. Payton didn't hear her, so she spoke up louder. "Payton!"

Payton looked up from the computer screen. "What?" He whispered back.

"Come here." Maisie gestured towards the doorway.

"Why?"

"Something's not right."

"What?"

"I don't know. Just… come here, please."

He looked at the other two, who were not paying attention to the whispered conversation. Their attention was focused upon a series of files now popping up on the screen. He sighed and stepped away, walking back across the room towards the girls.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he reached the doorway.

"Something's not right about this." Maisie told him.

"How so?" Asked Payton.

Maisie glanced at Catherine, who was not planning to join in with the conversation. She realised she would have to explain what it was that was bothering them.

"Someone's watching us." She said with the quiet and nervous voice of a surreptitious conspirator.

Payton almost snorted with laughter. "What?" He asked.

"There's someone watching us out here." Maisie repeated.

"You're probably just imagining it." Payton told her.

"I'm being serious." Maisie insisted. "Don't you feel it?"

"I didn't when I was in there."

"What about out here?"

Payton paused. His wings gave a small shudder upon his back. The humorous smile on his face slowly began to fall.

"I…" He said quietly. He stopped, the smile now completely gone. "I think… you might be right." He finally said.

"So someone is watching us?" Maisie said.

"I don't know." Payton admitted. "But something doesn't feel right. We've not seen any sign of the target yet. There are only so many places a person can hide, but if she's not here then…"

"Are there any other places were a person may gain access to the bank's network?" Maisie asked.

Payton thought for a moment. "They could access it from any computer linked to the network." He explained. "But if they were after bank information, the best places would either be here or…" He paused. "…Or the manager's office."

There was a long pause.

"We may have walked into a trap." Payton muttered grimly.

The trouble with blatant statements such as this is that often they are made just before the subject of the claim occurred.

An alarm suddenly sounded through the building, echoing of the stone walls. Payton had made a half-turn towards the door when it suddenly slammed shut behind him. He had not even managed to grab the handle before he heard a loud click as the lock fixed itself in place. Down the corridor they heard several other doors go through a similar process. Inside the room Nicholas and Felix looked up in surprise. Through the door's window the three teenagers could see them. They ran across the room and were instantly at the door, trying to break it open. No amount of pushing or kicking would work. The lock was stuck fast, and the hinges were too strong to break free. They were trapped inside. And to make the situation worse, the lights suddenly went out. The entire building was plunged into sudden darkness.

Maisie was frozen in panic. She could not have prepared for this to happen. Now that such an unpredictable and awful event had occurred, she was left terrified and helpless, unable to see her anything in front of her, not even her own hands as she held them up to clench her face.

"What's going on?" She cried out.

"I have no idea!" Payton called back from nearby. "I think the building's gone into lockdown!"

"How?" Maisie continued to cry.

"Someone must have triggered it. That alarm before was just a break in alarm. Now the proper security alarm's been set off."

"I can't see a thing!" Maisie muttered anxiously.

"Me neither." Catherine said in agreement.

There was a nocking sound upon glass, and the rattle of a metal door as someone tried to open it.

"Is everything okay out there?" Maisie heard the muffled voice of Nicholas shout.

"What do we do?" Maisie murmured in alarm. She had been able to keep her nerve before now, but standing in the pitch blackness of the hallway had broken that brave façade.

"Don't panic." Nicholas shouted to her. "Just stay calm. We'll sort this out."

He and Felix continued to thud against the door in the dark, but there was no sound that indicated that the lock was growing weak or breaking free. Maisie began to breathe frantically. She had never been in a situation like this before. She was already an anxious and nervous person, and standing helplessly in the dark was bringing out the true fear in her. This was hero work. She couldn't allow herself to be scared so easily. But she had always struggled with facing intimidating situations, especially when she was expected to know how to deal with them, when she was expected to figure it out by herself. She just couldn't conjure up the answers that people wanted under such stress, and ultimately she would fail them. In everyday life this drawback hurt no one but herself. Now, as a trainee hero, she was expected to save people. How could she do that if she was cowering in the dark?

But then there was a small squeaking sound, which seemed to emanate throughout the building. For a horrified moment Maisie feared that some sort of giant mouse was nearby. Her imagination had always been rather wild, and in a panicked state it jumped to the most ridiculous yet terrifying possibilities. Fortunately for her this was not the sound of an overgrown rodent lurking nearby. It was in fact the sound of several emergency lights dropping from the ceiling and sharply turning on. The room went from being pitch black to being pitch red. While the emergency lights allowed the students to see, Maisie found the awful colour and awkward flashes to be disorienting and blinding in their own unique way. But, at the very least, she could see again, and the fear that had built up inside her chest started to fade away.

Through the window of the locked door Nicholas and Felix's faces peered. No lights had come in within their room, and by the looks of it the computer which had created some light for them was now switched off, most likely because of the power outing.

"Emergency lights." Payton muttered.

"Are you three okay?" Nicholas asked, his concerns blatantly with the three teenagers.

"We're fine." Payton said. "But what about you two. You're locked in there!"

We're alright." Nicholas reassured him. "We can't open the door, but with a bit of effort we might be able to break the lock."

There was another squeaking sound, this time sharper. Maisie covered her ears in pain. She recognised the sound. It was very similar to the sort which was made by Dubstep when he used his quirk on his portable microphone. She glanced around, and realised that this sound was coming from a nearby wall speaker. A voice came through, feminine yet cold and cunning.

 _"I'm impressed that you followed me all this way."_ Said the voice, each word rattling the speaker and echoing through the hallway. _"But it was a foolish endeavour. No hero has ever succeeded in outwitting me. No hero has ever succeeded in capturing me. You will not be the first to break that streak."_

"Where are you hiding?" Maisie shouted up at the speaker.

"She can't hear us." Payton told her empathetically. "There's no microphone."

 _"I wouldn't bother trying to break any locks."_ Continued the voice. _"This place is designed to keep even the most intelligent of criminals out. Though it's not good enough to stop me. If any of you got lucky and weren't locked away, I'd suggest you leave now. The front doors should still be open. Be quick. I won't give you a second chance to leave, and if you should decide to stay and hunt me I will not make it easy for you."_

Then there was an electronic his, and the speaker fell quiet. The three teenagers turned to each other.

"Well, this isn't good." Payton muttered. "We're locked out. They're locked in. She most likely has access to the entirety of the building's security systems. Over all, this isn't looking good."

"You three need to go now!" Nicholas called to them, pounding his fist on the window. The glass was too thick to break with his bare hands. "Find the other two and get out of here. You don't need to be in danger like this."

"We're supposed to be heroes." Payton snapped at him. "We're not running away, not now! You need our help!"

"We'll be okay." Nicholas reassured him. "At the very least find the other two. They may be trapped like we are… or worse."

Maisie had to wonder what the worse might be in this situation. She stopped, as her overactive imagination began to create more worst case scenarios that were very unlikely yet terrifying to imagine. "He's right." She stated in agreement. "We should at least check on them."

Payton looked from her to Nicholas, and then shrugged. "I was going to do that anyway." He reassured them, smiling confidently. "You didn't need to tell me that."

"Then get going already!" Nicholas snapped, though his voice retained his concern for the teenager's wellbeing.

"Which way do we even go?" Maisie said. "We can barely see in this light."

Felix quickly turned to the wall, and placed his bare palm upon the painted brick. "Head back down the hallway, down the stairs into the lobby, and across to the other set of stairs leading downwards. The vaults are down a thick stone passage to the right." He told them.

"Now, get going already!" Nicholas snapped at them once more.

"Come on." Maisie insisted, grabbing Payton and Catherine by the hand. Neither of them resisted her, yet neither made any real effort to follow either. It took them a few second to move by themselves, and by then Maisie had dragged them halfway down the hallway.

"I'm coming, stop pulling me!" Payton complained.

* * *

The three of them reached the lobby, practically tumbling down the stairs. Maisie had kept her grip upon her companion's arms, partially out of desire to get them moving and partially because she was afraid that she would lose them in the low light. Payton was making a few half-hearted attempts to free his sleeve from her grip, though he had realised that there was no real point to doing so. Catherine was much more reluctant to be dragged along. She continuously tried to break Maisie's grip on her coat. Maisie wasn't sure why she struggled so much. She could barely feel Catherine's arm through her many coats, so it couldn't be that she was gripping her too tightly. She continued to pull her along, leading them both across the lobby and towards the stairs which the other two junior students had taken.

"You can let go of us now." Payton muttered as they reached the first step downwards.

Maisie paused, and quickly let go off their arms. Payton rubbed his wrist, while Catherine pulled up her sleeve and looked away from them both.

"You didn't need to drack us, you know." Payton muttered taking a step past Maisie and down the stairs.

"Sorry. I panicked." She admitted with embarrassment.

"You do that a lot." He noticed. "Well, come on. We've got to find the other two."

He gripped hold of the gold detailed banister and began taking the steps down one at a time. Maisie followed after him, carefully placing her feet in the dark, and somewhere behind her she could hear Catherine's footsteps join them.

"What are the chances that they aren't in trouble?" Payton wondered halfway down the stairs. Maisie took a moment to look at their situation, analyse the problems which had been created by it and then compared that to the intellect of her companions. It wasn't likely.

They reached the bottom. Maisie almost fell forward as her foot missed the last step, but Payton reacted quickly and caught her with an outstretched arm. She stumbled but remained standing, breathing quickly in the dark. Unlike upstairs, there were no emergency lights down here. The entire underground was pitch black.

"We should've brought torches." Payton said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Torch!" Maisie's mind sparked up at that word. She shoved a hand into her bag and pulled out her mobile phone. It was one of many new Obsidian VI Light models that her parents had bought her, due to Maisie's occasional destruction of her current model due to a desire for spare parts. Its thin case was outlined in shimmering black that reflected the red of the emergency lights, making it glow like dragon flame. She held it up in an outstretched arm and switched on the external light function. A narrow but bright cone of white light extended out in front of them, illuminating the room they stood in.

"Good thinking." Payton praised. Then he pause for a moment and looked at her with a more befuddled expression. "Why didn't you use that earlier?" He asked.

"I… forgot." She admitted, looking away in embarrassment. She had forgotten in her panic that her phone had a light attacked to it. She wasn't proud that she had forgot about something so useful, but at least now she was putting it to use.

Payton raised an eyebrow at her which made Maisie feel further embarrassment. He clearly had seen how stupid that mistake was. But quickly he dropped the subject with a shrug and turned away from her.

"Which way did Felix say?" He asked.

"I think…" Maisie paused, trying to remember. She was not especially good at multi-tasking, and sadly thinking and talking at the same time was often a struggle for her. "A stone passageway to the right." She said after a moment, and with a wild swing of her hand she turned and pointed to her right. Catherine had been stood only a few inches to her right shoulder, and Maisie nearly struck her in the face.

"Light the way, miss." Payton told her, standing to the side and gesturing that she lead the team forwards with the mannerism of a medieval knight. Such shivery was lost on Maisie. She held up her phone and walked forwards into the dark, the cone of light illuminating the way.

The underground room was made of thick stone brick, and while being mostly empty, it was currently housing a few soggy cardboard boxes. They walked for a few metres, until they reached a left turn. Around the corner was a stone passage. Unlike the old rock walls behind them, it was made of a fresher, harder, darker coloured stone, and was just wide enough for two people to walk through side-by-side. A bulb hung from a loose wire just underneath the frame, which lead back into the rock, possibly through the rock itself and into the same power grid as the above ground structure. The power outage had clearly effected this area of the buildings as well.

Maisie stepped through the frame, not having to worry about the hanging bulb. Payton had to duck to avoid hitting his head. Beyond the entrance, Maisie found herself in another room, this one very unlike the one before. Here there were emergency lights, which added an extra red glow to parts of the room that were not touched by the light of her phone. As it passed across the walls, she saw that they were made of thick concrete, the sort that was strong enough to survive a bomb blast. The roof was also made of it, as was the floor. Throughout their room were a series of white metal tables, all of which were bare. A few storage lockers sat against the far left wall, though Maisie wasn't sure what they were for. Payton suggested that they were for keeping valuable items left in the Bank's hands by wealthy customers. And then, on the opposite side of the room, were the bank's vaults. Three massive circular steel doors, with thick hinges, multiple heavy duty locks and several different alarm systems attached to them. All three doors were closed shut. Maisie took this as a good sign. If the doors were shut, it was likely the Hacker had not already stolen several million pounds in bank notes already.

"No sign of Barbara or Lu." She added upon finishing her quick glance about the room in the torchlight.

"Maybe they wondered off?" Payton suggest, though he did not sound too convinced by the possibility. They knew that they were currently in an exam. Wondering off would not do them any good.

Catherine made a small coughing sound. Maisie didn't pay it attention. The air down here was musky and full of dust. She could feel it filling her lungs as well, so she didn't doubt that was why Catherine had coughed. She coughed again, this time more forcefully. It was then that Maisie turned towards her, with concern.

"You oka-" She began to say. Then she saw what Catherine was looking at. Beside the furthest vault there lay a black punk jacket, the same one which Barbara had been wearing when they entered the bank.

Maisie ran across to her and stood beside Catherine, looking down at the jacket. "That looks like barb's." She said, kneeling down to pick it up.

"What's that?" Payton called across to them from the other side of the room.

"We found Barbara's Jacket." Maisie called back.

Payton turned to her in surprise, and quickly he was crossing the room to join them. "You sure?"

Maisie held up the jacket for him to see. It was definitely the same jacket that belonged to Barbara Faraday. It was made of the same fake, eco-friendly leather and had the same long grey sleeves, the same silver buttons, the same jagged collar, the same ripped fabric that cut away at the lower waist, the same metal studs upon the shoulder, and the same bull skull insignia sewn upon the left side pocket. Other than the jacket, Barbara did not exactly strike Maisie as a punk. She didn't wear much makeup, certainly not the amount of eyeliner that was associated with punks, and her hair was not dyed an unnatural colour or shaped into a ridiculous style. She had long, flowing, golden hair that reached her shoulder blades. As for her personality, though Maisie didn't know her too well, she came across as rather sweet and respectful, nothing like what Maisie imagined a punk would be like. But there was one thing she definitely knew about Barbara. She really liked that Jacket.

"There's no way she left this behind by choice." Payton murmured, looking to his two companions. "Taking it off for a moment, I can believe. But never willingly leaving it behind."

"But she's not here." Maisie said. "Maybe she forgot?"

Payton shrugged, but his expression showed that he very much doubted it. "She wears this jacket every single day, even during PE. Do you think she would just forget it and leave it here?"

Maisie looked away. "No." She admitted.

They looked at each other, and then looked around the room once more. Neither Barbara nor Lu were in this room, they could be certain about that. But then where had they gone? There were no doors or passages leading out of this room, other than the one they had come in through.

"They might have moved on already." Maisie said. "Perhaps we should go back to the lo-"

"Shhh!" Payton hissed suddenly.

Maisie stopped talking, looking flustered. Payton was focusing, his small ears twitching under his brown hair. Maisie also tried to focus, listening for something. She wasn't sure what it was he had heard, but she couldn't hear a thing beyond the quiet breaths and shuffling feet of the trio.

And then there was a sound, a quiet, distant metallic clang. It sounded nearby, and yet somehow distant. It made a dull, low ring for a second, and then repeating, occurring twice in succession.

"Is it me, or does that sound like a knock?" Payton said, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"A knock?" Maisie repeated.

The sound occurred again, this time a little louder. It repeated itself, and then fell silent once more.

"Knock, knock." Payton muttered. His eyes turned towards the vault door beside them. He placed an ear against the metal, and struck it twice with his knuckles. "Who's there?" He called, cracking a smile at his own stupid joke.

The same sound, this time repeating four times. Payton moved his head away from the vault. "Someone's in there." He said.

"Barbara and Lu?" Maisie asked.

"Most likely." Payton agreed. "That or the Hacker somehow locked herself inside. They probably got trapped when the building went into lockdown." He took a few step backs. "Whoever's in there, we should try and free them." He paused, and looked about the room. "Only question is… how?"

Maisie felt that she should be able to think of something they could do to free their friends, but no ideas were coming to her. Her Quirk, which was usually bothersome in how it continuously and abruptly took over her life, but now, when she needed it, she couldn't think up any creative plans for any gadgets which might be useful in breaking the vault door open. She looked down at her phone, hoping that seeing an already existing gadget would start her Quirk working. But nothing came to her. She saw no plans for any gadgets, not even for the gadget she was already holding.

"I don't know." She muttered, feeling ashamed of her inability to think. The stress of the exam must have affected her Quirk in a way she hadn't expected. She had not been aware that this could happen to her. She had always struggled to deal with stress, and usually when she was anxious she forgot to use her Quirk at all. But now she was trying to use it, and it wasn't working.

"Well that's not good." Payton said with a weak and dwindling smile. "You're supposed to be a technical genius. If you can't think of anything…"

Maisie knew that she wasn't a technical genius. It was her quirk that did all the work, not her. It created the plans and she simply followed them. But not it had gone away, and any feelings of pride or intellect she might have had towards herself was rapidly draining from her. She gripped the sides of her head, pulling her hair, trying to think up something.

"I… have…" Catherine's quiet voice said suddenly. The other two looked at her.

"An idea?" Payton finished for her. She nodded. "Okay, let's hear it."

Catherine tugged up her coat around her chin, trying to hide her face behind it. She was embarrassed for some reason.

"My Quirk can… um…"

Maisie and Payton continued to look at her. Neither of them had seen Catherine's Quirk before. They weren't even sure what it was supposed to be. She had never told any of the other students, and whenever the subject was brought up she became shy and would avoid the subject. Yet now she was claiming that it would be of use.

"Can your Quirk get this vault door open?" Payton asked her.

"I think so." Catherine murmured.

"Well then, get to it." Payton stated, ushering her towards the door.

Catherine bit her lip. "I… I don't… want… to…" She muttered.

Now Payton was confused. "You don't want to?" He repeated. "You just said your Quirk could help, but now you don't want to use it?"

"It's… dangerous… I don't…" Catherine muttered. Maisie saw with surprise that tears were forming in Catherine's eyes. She really did not want to use her Quirk.

"What's wrong?" Maisie asked her, reaching out to put a hand on Catherine's shoulder. Catherine turned away, avoiding the hand and covering her face with her fingers. She gently sobbed.

"Now's not the time to be feeling shy." Payton said sternly. "We need to free the others and catch the Hacker!"

Maisie didn't respond to either of them. She placed a finger before Payton's mouth and stepped past him. He looked back at her in offended shock, but he made not complaint about it. Maisie stood beside Catherine and placed a gentle hand on her right shoulder. Catherine glanced sideways at her. Her eyes were red with tears.

"What's the matter"? She asked. It felt strange for her to do this. She had never tried to be supportive for anyone before. Usually other people were trying to be supportive for her. She wasn't quite sure what she ought to say or do. So she decided to do what her parents would do for her when she was inconsolable. Sadly she doubted they would easily be able to get Catherine a cup of hot chocolate, so that step would have to be ignored.

Catherine gave a ragged and wheezy breath, and then inhaled deeply.

"My Quirk…" Catherine began, only to be consumed by her tears once more.

"What about your Quirk?" Maisie asked. She was surprised by how mature she was sounding. She was using the same gentle, honest voice her mother would use with her.

"It's… dangerous."

"How so?" Maisie said.

Catherine glanced back at Payton, and then leaned towards Maisie's ear.

"Can we talk away from him?"

Maisie also turned to Payton. "Do you mind taking a few steps back?" she asked. "She's nervous about her Quirk."

Payton gave her an offended look, but he did as he was told. When he had taken ten steps backwards, Maisie nodded gratefully at him, and she turned back to Catherine.

"Go on." She encouraged.

Catherine took another deep breath, and whispered into Maisie's ear. When she was done, Maisie stepped away, blushing awkwardly.

"O-oh." She said weakly. "So that's… it."

Catherine nodded, her tears dry but not gone. Maisie looked at her with sympathy. Now that she knew about Catherine's Quirk, she felt she understood her much better. Her nervousness, her awkwardness, her lack of desire to communicate with others or even be around them. Even the number of coats made sense now. This was what Maisie needed to know in order to help her.

"I understand that you're scared." She told her, gripping Catherine's shoulder tightly. "But you're the only one of us that can do this. I believe in you."

Catherine lowered her head, shaking it.

"I can't control it." She muttered. "I will kill someone."

"It won't." Maisie said with conviction. "You _can_ control it! I know you can! So prove it. Tell yourself that you're wrong!"

Catherine looked at her. Her eyes were still rimmed with tears, but something within them shone like a distant star. Though her doubt still consumed her, a small glimmer of confidence was growing. Maisie smiled at her, relaying that confidence. She could relate to Catherine's struggle. Though she didn't have _that_ sort of Quirk, she had her own confidence issues and fears to face. But if she could help Catherine overcome her struggles, then maybe she could beat her own as well.

"And, if it does go wrong, you can blame me, not yourself." Maisie added, hoping that maybe she would make Catherine smile. She did, but not with humour or hope. She was still very blatantly fearful of what she would do. She turned away, and faced now the large steel vault door.

"Could you both… look away?" Catherine said.

Maisie nodded at her.

"What's she about to do?" Payton asked.

Maisie walked over to him, grabbed him by the shoulder, and forced him around. He was a tall and heavy boy, she it was not an easy task, but he didn't fight against her.

"What are you-" He began.

"She wants privacy." Maisie explained.

"What's she about t-"

"It's personal." Maisie continued, cutting him off. Catherine had asked that she not tell anyone else, and she would be faithful to that request. One the two of them were looking away, Maisie held up a hand and raised her thumb. "Whenever you're ready." She said.

There was a moment of quiet tension, with the sound of a zipper being undone to fill the silent void of sound. Both Maisie and Payton stood with their backs to Catherine, unable to see what Catherine was doing, and only Maisie understood why. She trusted Catherine to succeed, and the best way to display that trust was to keep the promise she had just made to her.

After a half-minute of nothing, there was a sudden flash of red, glowing, hissing light. It filled the entire room, causing shadows to sprout upon the walls like vines, and with the glow came the sizzling sound of metal. It lasted for five seconds, filing the room with light, sound and a faint metallic scent. And then the light faded, plunging the room into darkness again. The smell remained, as did the sound of sizzling, though that was quickly fading. Payton almost turned around, but Maisie stopped him, knowing that Catherine wouldn't be ready for them to look back yet.

"I did it!" Catherine muttered, sounding astonished.

Maisie finally turned back around. Catherine stood before a glowing vault door, her coat unzipped and her clothing underneath visible. Beneath the coat she wore nothing but a padded grey bra. Payton immediately became uncomfortable upon seeing it. Then he noticed the door, and gasped. The hinges had been melted off, and in their place was a glowing, melting metal crater.

"What… was that?" Payton blurted out, his jaw dropping like an anvil.

"I said you could do it." Maisie said, smiling proudly at Catherine. Surprisingly, Catherine smiled back. It was a weak smile, still full of doubt and fear, but it showed that she had gained a little more confidence in herself.

There was a creak from the metal door. It was beginning to tip forwards. Slowly the heavy circle of steel began to lean towards Catherine.

"Look out!" Maisie yelled.

Catherine barely had the time to avoid the door before it came descending down towards her. It landed at her feet, making the ground shake and sending a cloud of dust into the air. She looked down at it with wide eyes. If she had been a second slower she would have been crushed.

The trio peered inside the vault. Within the dim red glow of the emergency lights inside, they saw the two stunned figures of Barbara and Lu, both staring at them in horrified amazement.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Lu blurted out loudly.

"I think…" Payton said weakly "…it was her.

"Her?" Barbara said in shock. "She fired that massive laser beam?"

"She did." Maisie nodded.

"I didn't know she could do that?" Lu said, still recovering from the shock of seeing a bright red laser burn through the door of the vault.

Catherine looked away, covering her face shyly.

"How did you two even get locked in there?" Payton asked them.

Now Barbara and Lu were looking embarrassed. "We, uh…" Barbara muttered. "We were tricked.

"You were tricked?" Payton repeated.

"Yeah, don't rub it in."

"How?"

"That bitch left a tape in there." Lu explained, holding up a small black box with an extended disc tray and a small shining disc sat in it. "It lured us in, and then she locked the door behind us."

"How on earth did you fall for that?" Payton said in astonishment at their stupidity.

"Listen, we weren't expecting it, okay?" Lu snapped defensively at him. "Don't tell us she didn't trick you lot in some way.

"She locked Felix and Nicholas in a room upstairs." Maisie said. "We should go free them, now that we're back together.

"Or…" Payton said with a small grin. "Since we've got the chance, we should find our target without them, capture her and take all the glory for ourselves."

"That seems a bit harsh." Barbara said, picking her jacket up off the floor and sliding it back on.

"They'll understand." Payton insisted.

"Will they, though?" Barbara continued.

"Look, this is our chance to prove ourselves without the help of adults. We can show our teachers that we can face a dangerous criminal by ourselves."

"Unlike what the other teams are doing right now?" Lu said mockingly.

Payton looked coldly at him. "Well yeah, they got the more dangerous criminals, but that doesn't mean what we're doing isn't dangerous or impressive in its own way. Come on! Let's do this together, without the older students. Class Junior, am I right!" He raised a fist to the air.

"I don't want that to be my battle cry." Barbara said with disapproval.

"Whatever." Payton said, annoyed by their displeasure. "Let's get back upstairs at least. We can decide what to do next then."

* * *

They made it to the top of the stairs together. Maisie switched of her phone's light. The lobby was bright enough to see in, but the red glow of the emergency lights was not exactly as useful as the normal white glow of the bulbs above. It was better than the pitch darkness of before.

"If the Hacker wasn't where you guys looked, then where is she?" Lu asked.

"We think she might be in the manager's office." Payton told him. "It's the only other place she could have access to the bank's data and to the building's security system."

"How sure are you about that?"

Payton hummed. "About eight percent sure."

"That's good enough odds for me." Barbara stated. "Where is this office then?"

"Felix said that the officers were on the right side of the upper floor." Maisie told them, remembering what the older student had told her about the path to the right of the stairs.

"We'll follow you then."

Maisie walked onwards, and the other four followed. She felt very self-conscious knowing that she was leading four other people. She tried to keep her eyes forward, but the knowledge that they were walking behind her, looking at her, made her skin prickle with anxiety. They walked up the steps, being careful of the loose carpet, and then took the right turn down the second hallway.

Felix had been right, the hallway was linked to several offices, probably for the more important members of the bank. They all had glass windows with blinds, and through them she could see a small square room with a desk, a swivel chair and a computer. None of them looked much like a manager's office though, and so she continued on. There were various names on plaques beside each door. ' _D. B. Schmidt, N. Fellows, R. Johns, A. Wilson, J. Farmer, K. Kingston, C. Waldron-Phillips, V. Leroy-Green'_ Considering that this place was currently located in a Combat Operation Zone, someone had put a lot of work into the detail.

Eventually the group of five came to the end of the hallway. Before them was a metal door, thicker and more tightly secured than the others. Unlike them this one had an electronic lock pad beside it, and hinges almost as thick as those that kept the vault doors in place.

"This is it." Payton stated. "Alright, Catherine, do your thing." No one moved. Payton turned to the shy girl. "Go on, do what you did with the vault door."

Catherine shook her head. "I can't." She insisted.

"She's embarrassed." Maisie explained. "There's too many people around her."

"It also starts to hurt if it happens too often." Catherine added in a quiet voice.

Payton's arms drooped. "Well what do we do now?" He asked no one in particular.

"I'll try zapping the lock." Barbara suggested. "It worked downstairs maybe it'll work here."

She strolled up to the door, rubbing her hands together. She extended her arms towards the lock, and from them jumped several small bolts of static electricity. The lock sparked, and then exploded. The door did not open.

"Ah." Barbara muttered awkwardly. "Maybe not."

"Well now you've broken the door completely!" Payton stated in fury.

"I didn't mean to." Barbara snapped back defensively.

"Now what?" Lu asked, rolling his eyes in frustration. "We break the door down?"

"With what, our bodies. That's solid steel!" Payton groaned. "If only we had Jon with us. He might be able to kick it down." He strolled away from the door, to a window beside the room which looked out on the lobby beneath them. He glanced through it, trying to calm down and think of a plan. Then he exclaimed in delight. "Oh, that idiot! That absolute idiot!"

The others locked at him confused.

"Who's an idiot?" Lu asked, assuming that Payton was talking about him.

"The hacker!" Payton said, spinning around. A massive grin upon his lips, spreading from cheek to cheek. "She left a window open in that office!"

"So?" Barbara asked.

"If we can get one of these windows open, I can fly across and break into the room!" He explained.

"But that's really dangerous." Maisie told him in shock. "If you fall you might break your legs or arms or even your back."

"I won't fall." Payton told her, turning to show off his eagerly spreading wings. "These'll keep me in the air, even if I miss."

"So you're going to just fly across to that window and climb inside?" Barbara repeated.

"Yeah."

"And what will you do once you're inside?" She asked.

"I'll rush straight to the door and open it from the inside."

"And what if she doesn't let you?" Barbara continued. "Or if the door can't be unlocked?"

Payton paused, mouth open. "I'll… think of something!" He stated. Before Barbara could think of another issue with his plan, he was already opening the window and climbing through. He perched upon it, wings spread and legs bent. He slowly lowered himself out until he was standing on the narrow sill, gripping the hard stone wall.

Maisie covered her mouth, trying not to exclaim in panic. What Payton was doing was absolutely stupid and should upon no accounts be attempted by anyone watching. She fought back the instinct to rush over and pull him inside. The others also seemed to be fighting a similar desire. But it appeared that Payton knew what he was doing, as he took every precaution to place his feet firmly on the little space he had to stand, and he adjusted his body to avoid losing balance and falling from the ledge.

"Alright… wish me luck." He said, giving his team a small glance and a smile.

"Luck?" Barbara said, her eyebrows raised. "Mate, what you need is an ambulance."

Payton payed her comment no attention… and leapt from the window.

The others did not reach the window in time to see him land. They only caught the last moment… as his fingers touched the ledge of the opposite window, curled into a grip, and let him hang there. They all breathed out a sigh of relief. He had not fallen towards the ground. But now he was hanging from an open window, kicking his feet and trying to push himself up. It took him some time to do so, and by then his fingers were visibly tired. He hauled himself inside, sighing with relief, and then he was gone from sight.

The group stepped away from the window, waiting. From within the room they heard a ruckus, and a few foul words. Then the door swung open. Payton was stood there, smiling at them.

"It's all done." He said through his cocky grin. "She's surrendered already."

"She's surrendered?" Lu repeated, astonished. "Just like that?"

"Yep." Payton nodded. "Guess she wasn't so uncatchable and unbeatable after all. She didn't even put up a fight. I just climbed in, and she held up her hands and gave up."

He stepped aside, and the others walked into the room. Inside the room was still properly lit, even though the rest of the building was lit only by the red emergency lights. At the opposite end of the office, sat at a long wooden desk with several monitor screens, was a young Caucasian woman. Her lips, eyebrows, nose and ears had several small metal piercings in them, and from several points along her neck and the back of her head were attached a series of USB wires and memory drives. Maisie had never seen such a strange appearance. Then she noticed that each of the wires was leading back into the computer or one of its monitors.

"Well done, kiddies." She said, her hands high above her head, revealing her heavily tattooed arms and wrists. "You caught me."

"You're the Hacker?" Barbara said with a confused expression.

"That's exactly what I said." Payton admitted with a grin.

"That is what I call myself." The woman said with narrowed eyes.

"To be honest, I was expecting someone a little more… intimidating." Lu said aloud. "I wasn't expecting her to just give up once we got inside."

"I can't really do anything to you in person." Admitted the criminal, her arms visibly beginning to ache. "My talents are with computers, not so much with combat."

"Speaking of computers." Payton interrupted sharply. "Switch off the lockdown already."

The Hacker gave him a piercing stare. "Why should I?" She asked nastily. "I've captured two of your friends trapped. Aren't you afraid of what I might do to them?"

"You can't do anything." Maisie said, not in doubt or as a threat but as a statement of fact. "You can only lock the doors and set of the alarms. You've already done that. They're already trapped in one of the rooms. You can't do anything more."

"A valid point." The woman argued. "But I might chose to leave them there. I doubt you kids could figure out the code to unlock the doors. They'll be trapped in there forever." She gave them a small, malicious grin. "But perhaps, if you promise to let me go free, I may be persuaded to unlock the door for them."

"Not happening." Barbara stated before any of the others could interject.

"Then your friends remain trapped." The Hacker leaned back on her chair, grinning with cunning pride.

Payton was the only one to smile back at her. He put a hand to his hip and leaned upon the air, which was quite impressive.

"You've probably not noticed it yet, but this young lady here is capable of melting the hinges of a vault door." He patted Catherine's shoulder, and she flushed red with awkward attention. "A simple metal door won't be too tough for her."

"I need time to rest." Catherine muttered objectionably.

"Okay, but even then, when she's ready she can do exactly that." Payton continued, adapting his argument to resolve this problem. "Meanwhile you'll be trapped in here, with us keeping an eye on you, until our friends are free. We won't let you go free."

The hacker looked at the small, skinny girl in the padded bra and thick winter coat.

"Is this a joke?" She asked.

"Check the vault downstairs." Payton told her confidently. "You'll see all the proof you need."

The hacker turned to the computer and began clicking and typing frantically. She stopped after a few seconds, and her eyes widened in alarm. Apparently she was looking at the camera footage from the vault, and she had just witnessed Catherine's Quirk in action.

"And, if you really annoy us, she might choose to use her Quirk on you personally."

The Hacker looked up at them, her eyes focused keenly on Catherine. She gulped nervously. "I see." She muttered, her mouth dry and her confidence completely sapped. "I'll unlock the building then."

"Great." Payton beamed. "Well that sorts it. Mission accomplished. We captured the Hacker. Well done, guys." He slapped Catherine on the back, and she nearly fell flat on her face.

"Thank god for that!" Barbara exclaimed.

"I didn't think we'd ever do it." Lu stated.

But Maisie didn't join in with the revelry. Something about this seemed off. This criminal, who was supposed to be especially talented and notorious, had just willingly surrendered to them, without so much as a small scuffle. That didn't feel right. Surely there was some way she could have stopped them from reaching her. Certain things felt too well placed. Catherine's Jacket, the active computer, the open window. These were all things that a smart criminal should have noticed. It bothered her increasingly.

This exam had been too easy. Far too easy.

* * *

 **Sorry about how long this chapter is. It wasn't intended to be quite this long, but as usual the amount of detail got out of hand. All the same, I hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will be the last one for the Criminal Apprehension Exam, regardless of how it ends. After that maybe one or two chapters more, then I'll take a break before starting the next arc. I'm planning to do something pretty big with the chapters after the next interval, and I want to plan them out properly and make sure I have my ideas fully realised.**

 **Till then, see ya!**


	26. Chapter 24 (Part 1) - The People We Were

**Jared Wreath**

* * *

They had been sat talking for almost an hour and a half now. Their encounter with the criminal known as the bomber felt so long ago.

Jared had spent this time trying to explain his plan to the other members of the group. He was currently going over his fifth explanation. The issue was not that his plan didn't make sense, as eventually a few members of the team had come to understand what he was saying and seemed to like the suggestion. The problem was that Jared wasn't sure how to describe it. Explaining things had never been one of Jared's strengths, and right now it was most definitely holding him back. But by this point it seemed that most of Team 1 – at least the members who were paying attention – were following his idea. They sat in a circle of six at the edge of the pavement, having found a few chairs in the buildings nearby, and discussed the plan once more.

"So, let's get this straight." Said Rylie, counting the pieces of their plan upon her scaly fingers. "You want one of us to confront this guy by themselves, and the other six surround him on all sides and take him by surprise?"

"Putting it simply…" Jared agreed "…that is the plan."

"That's all?" Rylie exclaimed, disappointed.

"You missed out all the detail." Jared insisted. "I said that one of us, probably the person least suited to fighting our target, should approach him and grab his attention. While they are doing so, the rest of you will move into any advantageous spots, surround the Bomber and attack him together."

"That's still not much of a plan." Elijah told him, arms folded in doubt.

"A plan does not have to be complex to be good." Aaren said in Jared's defence. He was grateful for that.

"Why did it take us an hour and a half to come up with this?" Rylie muttered.

"Because you weren't listening, and you keep interrupting." Aaren snapped at her. Rylie's tail visibly curled nervously underneath her arm. The seat she was perched on did not provide a hole for it to hang through.

"I think it's a good plan." Madge interrupted, adding her own support for Jared's efforts. "Simple, maybe, but it's strong enough to work."

"But the big issue is where the Bomber is going." Rylie said. She paused, mouth half open, and turned sharply to Jared once more. "Hold up, you said you had an idea of where he was going."

"I do." He said. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small pamphlet, unfolding it into a Z shape and holding it open and flat between both hands.

"What's that?" Rylie asked, looking at the many words and colourful pictures on the page.

"It's a travel pamphlet." Jared explained. "For tourists. It contains information about several sightseeing locations and landmarks within the city, specifically inside this COZ."

"And how does that help us?" Rylie asked sceptically.

"Shut up and listen already!" Aaren hissed at her. Rylie hissed back, though out of nerves and not of anger.

"I think the Bomber might be after one of these landmarks." Jared told them, his eyes turned down towards the pamphlet.

"How'd you figure that?" Elijah asked curiously.

"It was something that Madam Broadhurst said before the exam. ' _It is likely he will attempt to destroy one of the historical structures on the site'._ " He recounted the words of their headmistress just before the exam had begun. "I suppose it's not too hard to pick up that hint, but there aren't many historical structures or landmarks in the COZ." He paused, turning over the pamphlet. "But there is one."

He slid a finger down the page and pointed to the image of a golden statue, standing lonely in the middle of a marble plaza. It depicted the figure of a man standing heroically, drabbed in muscle-revealing spandex, a golden cape flying behind him. It didn't take much for the group to realise who the statue was supposed to be.

"Heracles?" Rylie muttered, not sure what to make of this. "So… this guy wants to blow up a statue of Heracles?"

"He's this country's most famous hero." Aaren reasoned. "A Major symbol for the Hero Movement. I can imagine that a criminal may want to destroy such a symbol.

"It's a bit of a flimsy theory, thought." Rylie continued, not exactly convinced.

Jared rubbed the rim of his nose in thought. It hadn't felt quite right since the Combat exam. A lot of blood had spewed from it after being punched by Mitchell. It looked slightly wider between his eyes, and whenever he saw his face in the mirror he was certain it was wonky. It was likely that it had broken on that day, though after Doctor Cutter's examination there had been no mention of great injury to it or even the suggestion that it was out of line. Perhaps he was imagining it, but after he'd been struck in the face by the Bomber's healing orb it had been itching and aching. The impact had done something to agitate it.

But he couldn't focus upon that right now. He had to keep his attention on the exam and the plan which he was formulating with his teammates. He moved his finger from the ridge of his nose to the pamphlet, and prodded the picture of Heracles' statue three time.

"We need to take into account what we know about this guy." He stated, with a brimming confidence greater than any he had mustered in front of his peers before. "Madam said that he's wanted for arson and destruction of property. I wasn't sure if that meant he would try and fight us if we confronted him, but we've already found the answer to that question. The thing is, though, I don't think he's especially interested in us. He never showed any real interest in fighting me or Jason. He only seemed to do so because we attacked him, and the moment more Aaren and Rylie showed up he fled. Therefore, his goal isn't to defeat us. We're just in his way." Jared turned his eyes down upon the pamphlet. "It's more likely his goal is to destroy something within the COZ itself, most likely something valuable or important."

"Okay." Elijah said, following the explanation. "But why the statue?"

Jared moved his finger across the page, to a small segment of map which was printed beside the photo of the plaza and the Heracles statue. It depicted the edge of the COZ's eastern district. A small red dot a few blocks from the wall depicted where the plaza was located.

"It's located on the eastern side of COZ." Jared continued. "That's the direction the Bomber is heading. It's also the only landmark that might be of interest to the Bomber past here." He lowered the pamphlet, folding it up once more. "I'm certain that our target is headed that way, and that the statue is his target."

"And what if you're wrong?" Rylie asked in an uncertain tone.

"Then I'm wrong." Jared accepted. "But I'm pretty sure I'm not. It's possible he's already there, so we need to start chasing him soon."

"We still haven't finalised this plan." Rylie insisted. "Who's distracting the Bomber, who's surrounding him and who's attacking him?"

"I was going to discuss that in a moment." Jared said.

"Well you're taking your time." Rylie retorted. "Like you said, we might not have the time to sit around talking."

"Hey Riley." Aaren said.

"Yeah?"

"I was just thinking…" Aaren said sweetly. "Your tail."

Rylie looked at her tail. "What about it?"

"There are some species of lizards which can detach their tails, did you know that?" "Aaren told her, her voice retaining its unusually cheerful tone. "They do it when they're threatened by predators."

"No…" Rylie murmured, concerned by Aaren's odd behaviour. "…I didn't know that."

"It's made me curious…" Aaren continued. "Can your tail do the same?"

Rylie's eyebrows raised fractionally. "I… don't know." She admitted slowly.

"Well, we can always find out." Aaren said, her sweet voice now finally revealing the bladed tongue it concealed. "If you keep interrupting, I'll be happy to test this theory, and I won't stop pulling until it comes loose!"

Rylie got the message. Her tail curled tightly around her chest, and she clenched it between her armpits. She looked back at Aaren timidly, and then turned away, afraid of the girl's gaze.

Aaren smiled triumphantly. She turned back to Jared, who was both impressed and a little unnerved. He had seen Aaren angry and annoyed before, but he hadn't seen her threated someone this way before. It shocked him that she had the talent to subtly unwind a warning like that.

"Continue." Aaren said, acting as if nothing had happened. Jared broke eye contact with her, coughed nervously, and continued with his explanation of their plan.

"If we're going to try and surprise the Bomber, we need someone to get his attention first, and distract him so that the rest of us can jump him from all directions." Jared explained. "Fighting him alone we don't stand much of a chance. If we fight together our chances will be better, and if we manage to take him by surprise then we might be able to capture him with little work at all." Jared closed his eyes, taking a sharp breath to steady his nerve for what he would suggest next. "I don't have a Quirk, and because of that I'm the least suited to fight the Bomber. I should at the very least do what I can to distract him."

The group looked at him.

"Are you sure?" Aaren asked. "If he attacks you, we won't be able to help."

"I'm fine with that." Jared told her stoically. "It's more important that we pass this exam. It doesn't matter if I get hurt. I will happily take all the attacks he can dish out if it help you bring him down." He shrugged with a small, nervous smile. "Besides, I have fought with him already. At least I know I can hold my own against him for a small time." He held up his arm. "And I can always use this." He added, showing off the leather glove and its pneumatic piston ram. It sat comfortably upon his right hand, and the fingers flexed smoothly and comfortably. "I haven't had a proper chance to try it yet, but it should at least make the Bomber think twice about fight me up close."

Aaren looked at him uncertainly. It was strange for Jared to see concern for himself on another person's face. He had never seen it on his father's face, and most people he had known growing up were uninterested in even giving him the time of day. It made him realise that, regardless of his faults and failures, there was someone within his life who truly cared about him still. He was not oblivious to the possibility, but in the stew of teenage anxiety and selfish concern it can be easy to forget that someone does indeed care that you exist.

"Alright." Aaren said. "And the rest of us will attack the Bomber directly."

"That's the idea." Jared agreed.

"It won't work." Elijah interrupted. "It's too simplistic. Six trainee heroes charging one experienced criminal. We might succeed, but it's not very likely. He'll have ways of avoiding us. You said that he used air grenades to throw himself out of range of your attacks? It's likely he'll just do the same with us."

"Then we plan out how we attack him." Aaren suggested.

"We should have at least two lead attackers." Elijah told her, applying his much older strategical mind to the conversation. "Having one would be too risky if the Bomber managed to defeat them, but if we were all lead attackers we wouldn't be able to surprise him or trick him. If the two strongest members of our team took most of the attention, the rest of us could dart in and make quick, unpredictable strikes while his attention is on them."

"We should use our Quirks to our advantage." Aaren added in agreement. "I can pass my limbs through any material, which I can use to surprise him. I also have over eight years of martial arts training, so I know how to fight another person."

 _Eight years!_ Jared had not known that she trained for that long. That was half of Aaren's life spent in a dojo, learning how to use her arms and legs to take down opponents who were probably twice her weight and size. Now his experiences with her during the self-defence classes became much more extraordinary. How much had she been holding back on him?

Aaren turned to Elijah. "You next." She said with a gesture.

Elijah Zylstra straightened his back, looking proudly down upon the surrounding seated students. "I have some experience with fighting." He admitted in a humble yet also prideful way. "Not as much as you, young miss, but enough to face this criminal in melee combat. As for my Quirk, it is my true gift to our team. I have _Enhanced Agility_. I can clear a four-hundred metre track in twice the time an average person could. I can jump twice as high as an average person. I can manoeuvre, evade, dodge and slink more effectively than the average person could dream of doing. With my agility this criminal will not able to land a single hit on me."

"Yet you didn't get here fast enough to catch him." Rylie pointed out.

Elijah ignored her.

Aaren nodded at the older, spiky white haired man. "Then you should probably be one of the people to focus on fighting him.

Jared imagined that Elijah would agree with her, but instead he shook his head strongly. "My fighting methods rely on my speed." He admitted. "In stationary combat I'm not so effective. I will be much more useful to you waiting out of sight, and then striking swiftly while his back is turned."

Aaren continued to nod. This suggestion certainly sounded like a better one. "Okay then." She said, and now turned to Madge. "And you, miss."

Madge gave her a kindly smile, her wrinkled cheeks glowing pink. "I'm not really much of a fighter." She admitted. "But I do have one thing I can do that will help us."

"And that is?" Aaren asked.

Madge stood up, unfolding her arms from her white fur coat. "I can defend." She told them. And then she activated her Quirk.

Jared had not seen in in proper application yet, and now he got the chance. Madge's face was swiftly covered in a rapidly forming calcium sheet. It seeped from her skin and hardened upon contact with the air. After a second the entirety of her face was shielded behind a mask of bone. She held up her hands. They too were covered in hardened bone, from wrist to fingertip, with space only between the joints allowing for movement. Madge stood there in a suit of bone armour, no longer an old lady but a fearsome entity.

"This is my Quirk. _Bone Armour_." She stated in a voice that was gruffer and more masculine than her usual sweet, elderly voice. Jared wondered if her body had changed at all underneath that armour, but he didn't let his curious thoughts go too far down that route. "I can keep it up for quite some time, but it won't last for ever. If it takes too much damage it will start to crack and break away. I also have drink plenty of milk to keep it healthy."

"Rather ironic, isn't it." Rylie muttered. "The old lady has the best bones out of all of us."

"I will smack you!" Aaren muttered back, this new threat much more direct. Rylie acknowledged it and returned to being quiet.

"That would be pretty useful." Jared complemented her. "Do you think the Bomber's explosive would break it?"

"After a time." Madge said honestly. "If he managed to land a few hits in the same spot." She folder arms, and the bone armour suddenly flaked away into dust, revealing her normal elderly body once more. "But I'm prepared to risk it. I may not be to experience in hand-to-hand combat, but I can take more hits than the rest of you. For that reason, I should be one of the two who face our target head on."

Everyone looked at her in surprise.

"Are you sure?" Aaren asked. "If you're not cut out for it, you don't have to do it. He might really injure you."

"I can survive whatever he can dish out." Madge reassured her. "And even if I can't, I'd rather that I was hurt instead of any of you. I am just an old woman. You lot still have the rest of your lives ahead of you. It would be awful if that criminal were to cripple or even _kill_ you before you got a chance to achieve your dreams."

Jared was rather moved by her statement. She was putting the rest of the team before herself. Jared had never met either of his gradmothers. His mother's mother had died before he was born, and he wasn't completely sure if his father even had parents. But if he had been given a choice of who would be his grandmother, he would have chosen Madge.

"That's sorted then." Aaren announced. "Madge and I will do most of the fighting, Jared will do the distracting, and the rest of you will strike when you get the chance."

"Hang on, what about me?!" Rylie blurted out in surprise. "I don't get a choice?"

"No." Aaren said sternly. "You're annoying and you don't listen. I very much doubt you could do much against the Bomber. In fact I'm rather concerned that you'll give us away before we get the chance to attack. I'm only letting you join us because we need to work together, all seven of us."

Rylie exhaled a visibly steaming breath, and from the edge of her thin lips her sharp teeth began to appear. "All seven of us." Rylie repeated. She then turned on the two silent members of the group. "You're including them in this?"

Ty and Jason had been mostly separate from this discussion. Ty had at least been listening, and had been present in the circle, but he had said absolutely nothing this entire time. He had provided no input or suggestions, and had made no arguments about any decisions. It seemed that he either had nothing to say or did not care about the exam, and both possibilities were bad for the group. As for Jason, he hadn't even tried to work with the other members of the team the moment the exam began. Though he had physically recovered now, he was still in mentally and emotionally wounded. He had attempted to do everything by himself, and now he was doing nothing by himself. He was sat on the other side of the street, legs crossed under him and his head hanging low, his blue eyes staring hatefully at the ground. Not one member of the team expected him to help in any way, and so they had given up on trying. He was refusing to talk to them after his breakdown. He still had not fully calmed down. Every so often he would grab a small pebble, throw it above his head, and smash it with a blast of air.

"I am." Aaren responded, with a more serious and stern expression and tone. "But that is only if they actually plan to assist us. If they don't want to fight I can't make them, but then they will most likely fail this exam. But that will be their fault, not ours." Aaren turned back to her. "I hope at the very least you will try and assist us, won't you?" She asked in an almost mocking voice.

Rylie's anger subsides slightly, though it did not completely go away. "I never suggested I wouldn't." She said through gritted teeth.

"Okay then." Aaren said, now smiling at her companions. "So, we have a plan finally. Then let's get moving. How far is the statue from here?"

Jared glanced back at the map on the pamphlet, and looked quickly at the many streets and alleys detailed on it. "Quite a distance." He told her. "At least thirteen major streets, several alleys and a couple of squares and highstreets. Maybe fifteen minutes if we run."

"Then the Bomber's probably there already." Rylie stated in alarm. "We won't get to him before we can stop him."

"We might." Jared told her encouragingly. "We should still head there and move fast. There's a chance he hasn't already destroyed the statue."

"Then if we're done planning…" Elijah said as the group rose to their feet, "…we should start moving."

"You're going to fail!"

They all turned to Jason. He was looking up at them now. Red stains marked his cheeks and the veins in his eyes were troublingly visible. His teeth were clenched, and around his lips were the dry marks of tears.

"You can't beat him! None of you are good enough! You're all idiots to think you have a chance."

"Ignore him." Aaren whispered to the others. She had already told them not to respond to Jason's shouts and insults. It would not help matters to start a fight within the group. Sadly Jason was not deterred by a lack of response.

"You're all so pathetic!" He snorted, snot falling from his nose. "You think you're something special? You'll lose the fight, and then you'll lose the exam! You'll accomplish nothing!"

Jared looked at him. He didn't feel anger or fear, or annoyance or humour. Looking down at the snotty, tearful, furious Jason Jones filled him with nothing more than pity. He sympathised with him. Something awful had happened in his life, and because of that he was trying to take it out on everyone around him. Jared had once hated him. Now he just felt sorry for him.

It should have done as Aaren suggested, and left him alone… but he couldn't stop himself. He turned back to Jason, took a step away from the group, and looked down on him with sympathy.

"We might accomplish something." Jared told him, with more optimism that anything he had ever said to himself. "We may fail, but so might anyone. We have to try, or else we will never succeed."

"Jared." Aaren whispered to him. She had seen him step away and confront Jason, and as he'd expected she was concerned by this. Jared again considered turning away… but he didn't.

Jason looked up at him, his eyes narrowing into a glare and his teeth baring furiously. "You will never succeed!" Jason snapped back. "Because you're Quirkless! You were born to fail."

His words stung a lot, but Jared pushed past them and let them slide off. He knew that Jason was trying to strike him personally, but he wouldn't let him. Something needed to be said to him. Someone needed to say it to him.

"That may be true…" Jared told him. "…but I won't accept that. I'll keep fighting, keep trying, until I make it… and no one will ever stop me! I _will_ become a hero!"

"You'll become a body in the ground!" Jason snapped back. "You moron! That criminal will eat you up! You're nothing more than a fly for him to swat!" He paused, hissing through his mouth as he exhaled breath. "Yet you think you can still win?! You really think you can make it as a hero?!"

Jared looked back down at Jason, giving him a stern, determined expression. "I do." Jared told him. "And I will."

"Then your brain must not be working properly!" Jason continued.

"Jared, don't…" Aaren whispered again.

This time Jared held up a hand. He wanted her to trust him. He had been thinking about what Jason had said to him before. A lot of thoughts had gone through his head, until eventually he had realised him. He needed to tell Jason. He needed him to understand.

"I'm sorry about your sister." He said, calmly, slowly.

There was a terrifying pause, as Jason Jones slowly turned to look at him, and erupted into rage.

"What?" He shouted, the force of his Quirk somehow escaping from his mouth.

Jared was shaken for a moment, but he held his ground. He knew what he was doing, and he was prepared for any way which Jason chose to react.

"I'm sorry that your sister didn't get accepted into the Academy." Jared continued, saying these words with expressive sentiment. "Truly, I am. She was your sister. She was important to you. You wanted to take this course together, but that didn't happen. Really, I am sorry."

Jason continued to stare up at him, exhaling rapidly with a growing fury.

"You're not sorry!" He snapped quietly. "How could you possibly be sor-?"

"But…" Jared interrupted sharply. "…I am not responsible for that!"

Another pause, just as terrifying as the first.

Jason held his breath, then let out a single deeper exhalation. "Not responsible?" He repeated. "You are! You're Quirkless, and yet you are here instead of her. You don't deserve to be here! She does! This is _your_ fault!"

"I had nothing to do with your sister's failure to get into the academy." Jared told him calmly, confident in his argument. "I know this because I barely got accepted myself. I'm only here because one of our teachers offered me an extra place deemed for students who were less capable but they thought deserved a chance anyway. I stole no one's spot! I am here because someone gave me a chance, and I will never forget that!"

"You're still a Quirkless bastard..." Jason snarled "…who's taken a spot which someone more worthy should stand in!"

"The same could be said for everyone." Jared argued back philosophically. "Any other people could take any of our places and do well as a hero… and yet we stand here right now! That's not because we stole this place from someone else. It's because this place was given to us by people who believe we can make it, who want to see us make it!" He thrust a finger at Jason. "You're here because someone thought you had what it takes to become a hero! They saw something in you! Don't take that for granted!"

Jared could feel six pairs of eyes staring at him, including those of Jason Jones. He continued to glare up at him in rage. But then, to everyone's surprise, he began to calm down. He slouched back and looked down at the floor again, the fury in his heart subsiding finally

"It's like the short girl said." Jason told him suddenly. "If we don't work together, we fail the exam." He looked back up at Jared, and in his eyes Jared saw not anger but self-pity. "How could I ever work with you?"

A third and finally silence passed over the group.

Jared felt a hand take him by the shoulder. He turned to see Aaren attempting to pull him away. "We've wasted enough time." She said. "We should get going. At least the six of us can try to pass this exam."

Jared didn't resist, and followed the other five away from their planning place. He looked back at Jason once more. Something about his last statement made him wonder. It sounded less like he was referring to Jared being the problem… and more to himself.

* * *

 **So I'm uploading this chapter in two halves. The second half, which is the battle, had ended up being much longer than I thought it would. For that reason I'm splitting it up. I may post the two as one full chapter later, depending on how long the second half ends up being. I'll try and finish it by the end of this week, then I'll upload it, or maybe reupload this one with both halves. Till then, hold on to your seat belts, cos you're going for a ride!**


	27. Chapter 24 (Part 2) - The People We Are

**Jared Wreath (Cont'd)**

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Though luck had not completely been on their side that day, it did provide at least one beneficial moment. The group eventually reached the plaza with the statue of Heracles at its centre. It was still intact and practically untouched, save for a few spots of dried bird droppings. There was no sign of the bomber yet. With time to spare, they planned out hiding places and prepared for his arrival. Jared sat alone on a bench in front of the statue, while the other five each hid in buildings or shadowed spot, out of sight from any direction the Bomber may choose to come from.

He sat there for almost fifteen minutes, waiting patiently with his arms on his lap and his legs folded. A couple of times Rylie would pop out of her hiding spot and approach Jared to ask if he was absolutely certain that the Bomber would be heading to this place. Each response was with certainty that he would, and he was then ask politely that Rylie return to her hiding spot, which see did reluctantly. Eventually the notorious criminal did arrive, travelling the same street they had walked. It was a surprise that they had not encountered him, and that he had not beaten them to this spot, but Jared didn't waste any time thinking about it. He stood up and walked towards the criminal, Power Glove on hand.

The Bomber noticed him the second he walked into the plaza. As soon as their eyes met a smile cracked upon the criminal's face. He approached Jared, his cannon arm resting against his shoulder and pointed towards the air. Jared didn't quite realise at first how nerve-wracking it was to face this man directly, not sneaking up behind him as he had tried to do last time. In fact the Bomber brought this up in his very first statement to follow their reunion.

"No from behind, sneaking stun gun attacks?" He said, holding up his normal human hand in feigned surprise. "Probably for the best, if I can be honest, though I wasn't expecting you to do the exact reverse and sit out in the open waiting for me."

But while Jared was certainly nervous to face this dangerous man again, knowing that his friends were watching over him gave him at least a mild feeling of security. He knew he could trust Aaren to assist him, and both Elijah and Madge seemed capable, even if they were much older. Rylie and Ty on the other hand… He could only hope that they would help in this fight. It was nerve-wracking to face the Bomber by himself, but Jared had to remember that he was not by himself. His friends were nearby, and they would come to his aid. He stood his ground, standing straight and pushing his chest out. He made sure to display the muscles he had been slowly building up over the term. He doubted they would intimidate the criminal, but they would at least show that he was not as weak as he felt.

"Surprise attacks aren't my style." He said aloud, making sure the others could hear him from where they were hiding. He knew how hypocritical his statement was, considering this was _his_ plan, but he was going to roll with it and try to lower the Bomber's defences a little. "I prefer facing my opponent head on and alone."

The Bomber's smile grew a little larger. "So what's this then? Revenge for your beat up?" He asked.

"I suppose it is." Jared told him. He unzipped his hoodie and threw it behind him. It landed softly on the bench, slumped against the metal arm rest.

"And your friends?" The bomber asked cautiously. "There's supposed to be seven of you heroes looking for me. Where are tey?"

Jared shrugged. "Dunno?" He lied. "I split off from them. I wanted to deal with you myself."

The Bomber raised an eyebrow. He seemed to be chuckling under his breath. "So, how'd you figure out I was headed here?" He asked.

"Our… boss gave us a quick briefing." Jared told him, altering a few terms and titles to try and make himself sound more like an official hero. "They said you were planning to destroy a historical structure in this district. I took a quick look at a map, saw this spot, and figured you were probably headed here."

Jared was surprised to see the Bomber stifle a laugh. He looked back at him with a grin, his eyepatch moving as his cheek nudged it upward. "Well, that makes sense I guess." He said. "Though you might want to work on your heroic act. For starters, learn more official terms. Heroes don't have bosses. They have supervisors who make sure they work within the law, and administrators who they report to about their actions. Just a heads up, you know, if you somehow manage to make it on day."

Jared's confidence sharply dropped. He hadn't been aware that there was a word for that role. He had made the assumption that all heroes had someone above them who they had to report to and had hoped that the criminal wouldn't question it. But he was much more aware of how the system worked than Jared had expected. It was a subject that had not yet been discussed in class… that or Jared had not been paying attention. Then he wondered how a criminal would know about any of this. This thought rested in his head for a second, and was then interrupted by the Bomber taking a few steps closer. Jared's attention was swiftly brought back to focus on him.

"You're no hero yet." The Bomber said, possibly to taunt him. "You're just a kid. A trainee. Do you really think you can win a fight with me?"

Jared's legs were beginning to wobble. His hands shook at his side. He slowly raised them up to chest level, and in an attempt to come off as confident he narrowed his eyes and stared down the Bomber. "I _know_ I can win." He stated back.

The Bomber hummed. He didn't respond with a comment this time. He simply prepared to start fighting.

Jared carefully and unsuspiciously glanced to his right. From the corner of his eye he could see a shadowed archway to a pastry shop at the corner of the plaza. Aaren was leaning against the inner side of one of the arches. She leaned out slightly, and nodded in his direction. A sign that she was ready to move at a moment's notice. If he wanted to start the fight, he could. But Jared wasn't ready, not quite yet. The question of how the Bomber knew about how heroes work behind the scenes made his think. How much did he know? And then another question formed, this one managing to escape through his lips.

"Why the statue?" Jared said.

The Bomber looked at him. For a moment he seemed confused by what Jared meant. Then he remembered the eight foot tall golden monument at the Plaza's centre.

"Because it's a symbol for the Hero Movement." He stated, as if he were explaining why one plus one equals two.

"But why?" Jared pressed. "Why is that a reason?"

The Bomber rolled his shoulders, looking away in thought. "Have you even been to Scarow, kid?" He asked after a moment.

"No." Jared told him.

"Well I grew up there, and let's just say it's not as nice there as it is here." He explained. "On this side of the wall heroes are a symbol of peace, order and hope. On the other side… they're more often seen as oppressors."

Jared hadn't know about this. He knew very little about Scarow. All he knew was that the northern half of the old city was denser, poorer and more chaotic, and also that there was a greater amount of crime. He didn't know that heroes were seen as the bad guys, however. He couldn't imagine that being possible. But then he had to wonder how truthful the Bomber was being. This could easily just be an excuse for meaningless vandalism, or possibly something more sinister.

"So you want to destroy the statue because you don't like heroes?" Jared attempted to understand.

The Bomber laughed. "No." He said, and took a few steps forward. "I want that statue blown up because I want the system to die!" He stated this in a much more vicious and purposeful tone than anything he had said to the young man before. "That system built the wall! That system made Scarow the way it is! If the system goes down, so does the wall! That's what I want, kid! An end to the system… and this is the first step towards that goal!"

This conversation was getting a little bit too confusing for Jared. What system was he talking about? The law? The Hero movement? The government itself? Some organisation he had never heard of? He didn't get a chance to ask, as the Bomber was done talking. He lowered his cannon arm and aimed it at Jared.

"You want to be a hero, kid?" He said with gritted teeth. "Then, if you won't back down, I suppose I'll have to start with you!"

Jared raised his hands above his face, just as Aaren had taught him. His training sessions with her had paid off well. Though he had already lost a fight with the Bomber that day, he hadn't gone down quickly and he'd managed to land a few hits before being taken out, and thanks to his healing orb his bruises had healed and his body felt more rejuvenated then any good night's sleep could provide. He was ready to fight.

It was then that Elijah landed his first attack. He moved so quickly that Jared didn't at first realise what had happened. It looked as if the Bomber had stumbled forwards. A second later his brain processed the blur of blue and white that had been the old man running at an astounding speed. A hand mark had been left in the back of the Bomber's jacket, where the old man had struck him with his palm.

And thus the fight began.

The Bomber retaliated, turning sharply and swinging his cannon arm ahead of him. But his attacker was already gone, disappearing back into the shadows of a nearby building. Elijah had not been lying about his abilities. Jared had barely even seen him move. Now it was Rylie's turn to attack. While the Bomber was recovering, she had sprinted from her hiding place, running right past Jared. She sliced the back of the Bomber's leg with her sharp fingernails, bringing him swiftly down. He landed hard on his spine and rolled over, to see Rylie turn back to face him and take several steps back. She was supposed to run to the nearest cover and hide again, and so Jared was a little annoyed with her, but thankfully her disobedience did not yet hinder their plan.

The Bomber glared at her from where he lay. "So they were waiting for me." He muttered in realisation. "All along, your friends were just hiding in the shadows. Clever plan."

Jared heard footsteps approaching from his left, and glanced sideways to see Madge Baumer now sprinting towards him, covered in her bone-like armour. He turned to his right, and saw Aaren approaching, having left her hiding place to attack in unison with Madge. She was not as close as the old woman, but she was quickly catching up to her. By the time she had caught up they would both be landing their attacks on the bomber. As she passed him she glanced to him, and slightly inclined her head in a confirming nod.

The Bomber was now noticing the both of them. They were attempting to pull off a pincer manoeuvre while he was vulnerable. There wouldn't be much time to dodge or block. But that didn't concern the Bomber for very long. He had ways around this sort of situation.

He rolled onto his back and pushed himself backwards, lifting his legs into the air and flipping agilely onto his knees. He then aimed his cannon and fired twice, shooting an orb at both students. Madge managed to dodge hers, while Aaren let the one targeted at her slip through her bare shoulder without detonating.

A bone-covered fist struck the Bomber in the face before he could make a second attack. It knocked him flat onto his back, pieces of white dust coating the gap between his brow and around his nose. Aaren's attack was a little more casual. As she reached the Bomber she lifted a foot up, shoe still upon it. The Bomber raised his cannon arm to block. Then, as her leg reached to top of its arc, her shoe sharply came flying off, sliding from her foot as if it were covered in butter. She swung her leg down it an axe kick. Jared wasn't sure what she expected to happen next. If she used her Quirk, her foot would simply pass through the man's entire body. If she didn't she would probably bruise her heel on his weapon. It was only as she brought the kick down that he recalled she had a habit of surprising her opponents.

Aaren's foot struck the Bomber and went straight through his chest, his weapon not stopping her, his ribcage not stopping her. But her attack did nothing to hurt him. It passed through him as if it were made of air. Her second kick did not, however. Raising her other leg, shoe still upon it, Aaren brought it down upon the man's groin. There was a crunch, and then a yelp. The Bomber looked as if he would vomit. Jared hissed, almost having to cover his mouth. If all their previous attacks had not made him regret his choice to fight them, this one certainly would.

"Christ!" The Bomber squeaked, scuttling backwards, using his cannon arm to pathetically drag himself away while he covered his pelvis with his normal hand. "Brings a new meaning… to the phrase ' _aim for the head'!"_

The Criminal was slowly, clumsily pushing himself back up onto his knees. As he looked up his red bandana slipped down his brow, pointlessly covering his eyepatch. He shifted it back up and ran his normal hand through his unkempt orange hair. He was attempting to regain some sort of confidence and cool, though evidently he was still in a lot of pain. His stood hunched with his legs closed and his knees wobbling.

"You kids are very clever…" He muttered, trying to hide his pain. "…very, very clever."

He raised his cannon arm once more, and in that instant Aaren and Madge began another assault. But instead of aiming his weapon at the approaching students, he instead aimed it at the ground in front of him.

"Though not quite clever enough." He continued.

Jared gritted his teeth. He should have known that the Bomber would resort to a technique like this – he had experienced a similar attack first hand – but he hadn't been expecting him to rely on it so soon into the fight. The criminal fired five times, and from his cannon five metal spheres struck the ground, bounced, rolled, stopped, and finally sat motionless. They formed a small half-circle around him, like watchtowers surrounding the outside of a castle. Immediately Jared knew what he was doing. No doubt Aaren and Madge had watched this attack and assumed that these shots were duds, just as he had. He wouldn't let them make the same mistake. But he didn't have much time to warn them. Aaren and Madge were barely three seconds away from reaching their opponent, and likewise barely three seconds away from being caught out by the mines.

Jared cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted at the top of his voice "Stop! Landmines!"

Aaren and Madge both came to a sharp stop. They looked back at him, then at the stationary metal orbs. One of them was less than a metre from Aaren's foot. Any closer and it might have detonated. Not for a moment did they consider that he was wrong. They had put their trust in him, and it had paid off.

"Thanks, Jared." Aaren called back to him. That made Jared feel good about himself. Being acknowledged for his help was nice. Aaren didn't often complement anyone, so when she did it meant she was actually impressed.

But now they were left with a situation. They could not get close to the Bomber without being blasted into space by one of the mines. There was no way of telling what sort of mine they were, either. They could simply be smoke grenades, but likewise they could each create an explosion big enough to fill the plaza. They could try and move around him and take him from behind, but his eyes were focused upon the three of them, and if they tried that he would most likely just place more mines. The only advantage they had in this situation was the knowledge that the Bomber would not try to approach them, not while the mines were surrounding him. Sadly that detail did not stop him from attacking them at range.

Having regained his strength and confidence after being kicked in the groin, the Bomber prepared for his next attack. He raised his cannon arm up and aimed it at Aaren. For an instant she flinched in reaction, the first sign of fear Jared had ever seen her display. The minimal time between this and the Bomber firing at her allowed for her to regain her usual composure. He was probably aiming at her for revenge. Aaren looked him in the eye, almost daring him to try it.

Perhaps he would have, if he had not been assaulted from behind. Rylie, who until this point had been completely forgotten about by everyone – including her teammate, which was impressive - had taken advantage of the situation. Because the Bomber had not yet taken the precaution of placing mines behind him, the teenage reptilian girl had been able to rush him and grab hold of his back. She was now riding his spine like a matador atop a bull, clinging to his shoulder for dear life. The Bomber recoiled and began thrashing his body, trying to throw her off, all the while Rylie was screaming 'Waaaahh!' in his left ear.

Her attack had created a moment of chaos, and in the chaos the Bomber stumbled sideways, stepping on one of his mines. Jared flinched, expecting an explosion to erupt and send both the criminal and the reptile girl flying upwards.

But nothing happened.

The Bomber stepped on the mine, and then stepped away. The mine did not detonate. Unintentionally the Bomber had given them a major advantage. Jared had wondered about how the Bomber set of his minds for a while. He had assumed till now that they detonated upon entering a specific perimeter. They weren't timed, as the one Jared had been caught by had exploded the moment he was passing over it. That was far too specific. But now he had a much better idea of how they worked. The Bomber seemed to have control over when his orbs exploded as well as what they did when they exploded. The mines wouldn't blow up unless he wanted them too, otherwise they would sit where they landed forever. This was not yet a certainty, but the evidence before his eyes was enough to convince him. If the Bomber wasn't focused, he wouldn't consider setting of the mines. Perhaps this was a perfect chance.

But warning the others would bring this back to the Bomber's attention, and then their chance would be ruined. It was completely possible that the Bomber would regain his focus any second, and if he wasted the little time he had explaining his idea that chance could vanish. Therefor he decided that he had no other choice but to act by himself.

He ran at the Bomber, who was still struggling to throw Rylie from his back. He passed Aaren and Madge, who glanced at him and shock as he sprinted by. They almost reached out to grab him and stop him, but by that point they were too late. Jared's foot landed right beside a mine. He closed his eyes. He could not have been certain until that moment. If he was wrong, he would be sent flying. His foot landed… and nothing happened. He opened his eyes again. The mine had not exploded. Filled with confidence and courage, Jared landed his other foot and continued his sprint, charging at the Bomber. His power glove was equipped. It would be the first time he would use it. He didn't think of that, however. He didn't even consider the possibility that it wouldn't work. He just ran, focused solely upon reaching his opponent. He didn't even see the expressions of shock on Aaren and Madge's face.

Rylie had her arms locked around the Bomber's neck, and her tail was whipping his side. He turned sharply in an attempt to throw her off. As he did so he saw Jared running towards him. He was barely a foot away. His right hand was swinging towards his face, and upon it was a leather glove with a pneumatic piston ram attached.

Jared's fist struck the Bomber's cheek. A normal punch would have simply made the healthy, sturdy criminal stumble back a little. This punch spun him around and almost made him fall onto his knees. Rylie slid from his back and landed on her spine at Jared's feet. She looked up at him, and saw him staring down at her upside down.

"You could've warned me." She muttered, scrambling up onto her feet.

Jared didn't hear her. He was trying not to cheer with joy. He had been right. The mine had not gone off, and he had done something to help his friends. Not only that, he had managed to distract the Bomber from the others, leaving him open for their attacks.

Aaren suddenly ran past them, having seen the opportunity Jared had given them, and grabbed the Bomber by the hair. She held a clump of his fiery hair in her hand and pulled it viciously. The sound that the Bomber was a sharp, timid squeak, one hardly befitting a hardened criminal. She pulled his head back, stepped in front of him, and brought her arm down with her. For someone half the size of her opponent, Aaren was astoundingly strong. She brought the Bomber's head down to meet the ground, his hair still gripped in her fingers. His forehead smacked the hard road. Another whimper.

Rylie and Jared stared at her in astonishment. Aaren turned and stared back.

"Damn, girl!" Rylie muttered. "Where's you learn a move like that?" She muttered.

Aaren looked away and didn't respond, but she failed to hide her pride from Jared. He could tell that she was feeling a similar sensation of joy to what he was feeling. This fight was going much better than they could have expected.

Rylie looked back to the slumped criminal. For a short, positive moment there was quiet. Then, like the thunderclap of an approaching storm, Rylie added "Though maybe you didn't need to go that far. You nearly smashed his head in."

And just like that, the moment was ruined.

The Bomber had laid motionless for several seconds now. Jared was starting to wonder if he was still conscious. Surely it could not have been that easy to overpower him. He was starting to seem like much less of a threat now, since he'd been brought down twice within only a few minutes and by the same person. He didn't have to wonder for very long though. About ten seconds after hitting the pavement with his forehead, the Bomber began to groan and shuffle. He tried to move, but it appeared that the impact had left him concussed, and he could barely manage to roll onto his side. He looked to the side and saw the three teenager's feet not far from his head. They were looking down upon him, unthreatened.

"Okay…" He groaned after a moment. "Perhaps I misjudged you. You're all much smarter than I thought… to pull off a trick like that."

"Trick?" Rylie said, befuddled.

"Don't try and stand." Aaren instructed, cutting Rylie off before she could undermine their work. "You're clearly not in a state to do so. This doesn't need to go any further. Give up now before you make this situation worse."

The Bomber turned his eye up to meet hers. It was a short glance, but in his eyes Jared had seen that same cocky spirit from before. He should have expected this after his own encounter with the criminal. The Bomber was not going to give up, not that easily.

"Young lady…" The Bomber said, his lips dry and cracked, blood between his lower teeth. "…there's one big assumption you and your friends are making here."

Aaren raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?" She asked.

The Bomber rolled onto his front again. His back was slightly arched. Jared felt that this was weird. The criminal had not shown any unusual back problems or deformities before. The only excuse for the off shape of his spine was if…

"That I'm not pretending to be injured." The criminal continued.

And then… and explosion!

Jared had no time to react. The air around the prone criminal ruptured and burst, sending shockwaves flying across the plaza. He could only manage to cover his face, unable to breathe as heavy blasts of air struck the back of his throat and stunned his lungs. His body was struck with an immense, incalculable force unlike any he had ever felt before. He could feel his feet scraping across the ground as he was dragged backwards.

But someone had stepped in front of him. He could only just see their outline within the cloud of concrete dust and rushing wind. They opened their mouth but whatever words they had said were deafened by the roaring air. A pair of arms grabbed Jared around the chest and clung to him, pulling him underneath them. Someone was trying to protect him.

Then he was lifted from the ground. The force of the explosion had finally flung him upwards into the air. Still the person was clinging to him, their body against his, embracing him tightly. Amidst the blast was the sound of screaming, both close to his ear and far away all at once.

When he landed, it was hard upon the pavement almost thirty metres away. The blast had thrown him to the other end of the plaza. He winced as his spine hit the hard street first and sent spasms of pain through his body. For a few seconds he couldn't feel anything. When his senses finally kicked back in he realised that whoever had been holding onto him had finally let go.

Something lay beside him, visible in the corner of his right eye. The shockwaves had died down, but the aftermath of the blast remained. The Bomber had devastated an entire twenty square metres of plaza. The concrete pavement was cracked and shattered, many shards lying far from where they had originated. The road itself was split as if it had been hit by a mild earthquake, a massive gash digging into the black tarmac and several smaller gashes leading off from it in various directions. And as for the people on that road…

Jared looked down at his chest. He was covered in concrete dust from toe to scalp. There was only one place he had not been covered, an area upon his chest, most likely because of the person who had grabbed him. They had to have landed next to him. He rolled over to look at the figure lay beside him.

"Aaren!"

Next to him, lying flat on her front, was Aaren Whitley. Blood was seeping from a nasty gash on her right leg, and her right cheek was bruised quite badly. Her entire body was caked in concrete dust, turning her pale skin whitish grey. Upon her wounds it was coagulating within the blood and forming dark grey patches on her skin.

Jared sat up. He could barely think properly. One of his closest friends was lying in front of him, unmoving, unconscious. He had no idea what to do. Was he supposed to use CPR at this point? He wasn't sure if she was breathing, and he didn't want to roll her over in case he injured her more. But he had to do something, he had to. She had protected him from the blast. He had to help her.

From the left side of his vision he saw Rylie siting up, having also been struck by the blast. She was also covered in scrapes and gashed, though at least she was currently conscious. She rubbed the back of her head, turned to Jared, and saw Aaren lying motionless on the ground.

"Oh shit!" He muttered.

Jared looked at her, desperation on his face. He was fighting back tears. He had never been through a situation like this. Panic was overtaking him. What if she was seriously injured? What if she died? He couldn't deal with that. He couldn't face another death.

"Jared, stand back, sweetheart."

Jared looked back. Madge was standing behind him, her bone armour disintegrating to show her concerned face. She knelt down beside him, putting one hand on his shoulder and another on Aaren's.

"She'll be okay. I'll make sure of that." She told him comfortingly. Jared couldn't believe that. It felt too risky to believe that. They had said that his mother would be okay. Then she had died. That would not happen to Aaren. He refused to let that happen. "You can't help her right now." Madge continued, turning her attention properly to the injured girl. She rolled her over gently, and as she did so Aaren exhaled a weak, coughing breath. "Focus on stopping that criminal before he hurts anyone else."

Jared had almost forgotten about the Bomber. He turned in the direction of the blast. The criminal was now much further away, having made an impressive landing at the edge of the plaza. He was kneeling, leaning upon his cannon arm for support. Apparently his attack had also injured him as well as his opponents. He raised his normal hand and pointed weakly at him.

"Sorry about that…" He called, wincing momentarily. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I sort of… got carried away. It happens, you know… in the heat of the moment, you lose control a bit."

Jared stood up, not able to take his eyes of the Bomber. A cocktail of emotion had ben overtaking him. He would never be able to find the right words to describe it, not for the rest of his life. First it felt like shock, seeing a friend who he believed to be especially capable and impressive lying injured and unmoving on the ground. Then it felt like fear, that she might be severely hurt, or even worse. Then it felt like anger… and it continued to feel that way.

Jared looked at the Bomber, and the anger he was feeling ignited into rage. He hadn't experienced such a fury since his fight with Tate and Mitchell, only this time it felt more powerful. He couldn't muster any words to speak because his jaw was clenched shut with rage. He approached the Bomber, starting off in a brisk, meaningful walk, and then breaking into a sprint. He didn't care if his opponent had prepared a trap. He didn't care that he was outmatched by himself. He just wanted to hurt this man! He wanted to hurt him as he had hurt his friend!

From somewhere far behind him Jared could hear Elijah shout "Don't!", but he didn't listen. He kept running, sprinting at his opponent. There wasn't much more than a few metres left between them. The Bomber wasn't moving or reacting to the oncoming attacker. He looked at Jared, and he smiled.

And then there was smoke.

A black haze covered the area around the criminal. Jared was blinded by it. He couldn't see anything much further than five feet ahead of him. He could barely see his hands. But that didn't matter. He just had to hit his opponent.

His fist sailed through the obscure gas and struck… nothing.

Jared skidded to a stop. Only now did he realise how foolish he was. The Bomber had left himself open on purpose. He had tricked him into attacking, and stupidly he had fallen for it. He had played into his hands, and now he was wide upon for an attack from any angle. But more than that, he had broken his promise to keep his cool. After the incident with the Anderson twins, he had made a personal vow to never let his anger take control of him again. And yet it had, easily. He was ashamed of himself. He was so weak willed that he couldn't control his rage even slightly. One bad thing happened and he snapped and lashed out, as he always did. It still bubbling in his soul, threatening to take control again. With what little willpower he had, he forced it to be still. He couldn't let his anger take control of him again. That was not the hero he was going to be. He wouldn't fight his battle with anger. He would fight them with clarity, empathy, respect and observation. He would not beat his opponent to a pulp. He would do everything he could to end the fight with as little harm to either party as was possible. The best place to start was with clearing his mind, and flushing away the fury in his heart. Aaren would be fine. She was strong. Jared believed in her. Now he had to start believing in himself.

He breathed in, and inhaled a lungful of smoke. It was not as hot or as bitter as he had expected, but it still made him cough violently. In that moment of weakness he was struck from the left by a normal human fist. He stumbled but stayed standing, turning back around and lashing out with his own retaliating punch. It hit nothing but the smoke. For an instant the rage sparked up again, but he quickly cooled it and focused upon clearing his mind. The first thing he had to do was find his opponent. Then he could worry about fighting him.

"Using smoke to hide yourself again?" Jared stated unimpressed at the black cloud surrounding him. "Rather cowardly, isn't it?"

"You should expect underhanded techniques from a criminal" The Bomber said from somewhere in the black cloud. "Only heroes play fair… and even then, not all heroes do."

To his left he heard a stone clatter. He spun around, hands in front of his face. He almost swung at the blackness before realising that no one was stood there. From the edge of his vision he saw a figure move, and before he could turn around another punch struck him, this time in the back. Jared gasped in shock, stumbled and fell onto his knees. He was quickly back onto his feet however, and turning quickly he thrust his gloved right fist at the black cloud. It struck something, sending an impressive amount of force into the recipient. Whatever he hit didn't seem to be effected, however. As the smoke ahead of him cleared he realised why. The Bomber was blocking his fist with his cannon arm, which carried a minute dent in the place the ram had struck.

"Nearly." The Bomber told him, nodding impressed. Then he stuck out a foot and shoved Jared in the chest with it. He stepped backwards. When he looked back at his opponent the Bomber was gone, fading into the smoke once more.

"Jared, are you okay in there?" Called Rylie from some distance outside the cloud.

"Yeah." Jared called back. He knew that wasn't at all true. He was facing a tough opponent by himself, and on top of that he couldn't see anything further than a metre in front of him.

"Elijah's coming to assist you." Madge called, joining in the long distance conversation.

"Oh good." Jared said. "I could use the h-!"

The Bomber's cannon arm struck him in the gut. The air in his lungs was pushed out through his mouth like a pair of bellows. The sound he made was quite similar to a deflated set of bagpipe. He crumple forwards, arms wrapped around his stomach, and collapsed onto his knees. He could hear footsteps walking around him.

"You put up a good fight today." Said the Bomber from somewhere behind him. "You should be proud of yourself, kid. You did well, and you didn't even use your Quirk."

"I don't-" Jared winced. He couldn't quite get his lungs to inhale properly. The strike to his belly had left his internal organs stunned. However the Bomber seemed to figure out what he was trying to say.

"You don't… what?" He said curiously. And then he chuckled with realisation. "Wait a minute… you don't mean to say that you don't actually… _have_ a quirk?"

Jared couldn't manage a nod at that moment. He feared that he might throw up if he tried.

The Bomber laughed again, though it did not seem to be with mockery or humour. It sounded much more like the laugh of a man who was pleasantly surprised. "Well, I never would've thought it. I guess you really can make a hero out of anyone nowadays."

Jared had no idea what that comment was supposed to mean. Was the Bomber mocking him and the other students, or did he genuinely think this? How many heroes could this criminal degenerate have met?

"Now I'm even more impressed." The Bomber continued. "You took me on and you didn't even have a Quirk? Now I get why you use that gun and glove." There was a small clicking sound. "Sadly it's time this ended." The Bomber announced suddenly. "This was fun, kid, but I don't have much time left, and I've still got a statue to destroy."

Jared tensed. The Bomber was going to use this smoke and confusion as a chance to complete his mission. He couldn't let that happen. If the Bomber succeeded in destroying the statue then he and his team would fail the exam. But he couldn't do anything about it. He was still recovering from being struck hard in the gut. The others weren't able to see them from outside, so they wouldn't see the Bomber's attack until it was too late. On top of that Elijah was nowhere to be seen. Madge had said he was coming to assist him, yet Jared had not heard from him at all since his first attack at the start of the fight. He was by himself. He had to stop the Bomber somehow.

Then Jared remembered the other tool he had brought with him. He had not wanted to use it so soon after seeing its effect on people, but in injured, panicked state he could think of nothing better. He reached for his pocket, where his stun gun was holstered. His fingers slid around the handle, his index touching the trigger lightly. Swallowing hard to keep down his nausea, he spun around into a sitting position facing the area of smoke behind him, aimed the stun gun upward, and pulled the trigger. The two pins sprang from the gun barrel into the black smoke.

There was a small metallic clatter… but nothing else. No buzz from the gun, no sparks within the darkness, not even a small but sharp exclamation of pain. The copper wire began to reel itself back in, and with it came the metal prongs. They were attached to nothing, dragging across the ground and making a light scraping noise. He had missed.

From behind him came a small laugh. Jared turned his head, and in the smoke he saw the Bomber's silhouette stood above him. Through the black haze the barrel of his cannon arm appeared, pointed above Jared's head at something in the distance.

"No hard feelings, kid." He said, most likely with a smug, self-satisfied smile. "You put up a good fight, but this was always going to end with a b-"

 _BANG!_

The sharp sound of an explosion filled Jared's ears. He had been preparing to hear this. The only strange thing was that the sound had not come from the Bomber. Instead it had come from somewhere further away and to his left.

Barely a moment later there was a vicious burst of air. The smoke distorting Jared's vision was dispersed, blown away in the sudden and violent wind. Small pellets of concrete struck his hoodie, caught up in the fierce gale. He covered his eyes from the roaring air and shrapnel, but between his fingers he could see someone land upon the road at the edge of the plaza. They struck the ground feet first, landing with both hands upon the road. A cushion of air burst out from underneath them, protecting them from the impact. Jared recognised that move. He'd seen it several times already that day.

The Bomber blinked a few times. The smokescreen he had created was completely gone, and now he was left standing in the open. He covered himself as if he were naked, the exposure to the descending sun and glaring students giving him provocation to feign shock. He twisted his head in the direction of the impact, wondering what had caused such a blast. There, at the end of the street, stood a young, black haired, blue eyes teenage boy, wearing a red jacket which fluttered in the wind.

"Jason?!" Jared could hardly believe his eyes. Out of everyone who could have come to his aid, he had not been expecting him. He was struggling to fathom why Jason Jones was here. He had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with the rest of his team. So why he suddenly shown up, right when it looked like they would lose the fight.

Jared attempted to stand. He wanted to approach Jason, or at the very least shout to him and warn him. If he _had_ come to help them, Jared couldn't let him walk into the Bomber's traps. But he didn't get a chance to shout at his companion, because the Bomber was already doing so.

"Hey, I was wondering where you got to." He said with a pleased smile. "I thought I might have knocked the fight out of you." He half turned and looked at Jared who was still sat behind him with his stun gun in hand. "So is this also a part of your plan? You five keep me distracted while he attacks from behind?"

Jared shook his head. He was surprised that he would even answer the question, but at that moment he was more in shock at seeing Jason's arrival than anything else. Was he really there to help them? That did not sound much like Jason Jones at all. But then what other reason was he there for? Surely he there to cause more trouble for the group?

Jason was still approaching, the wind quietening down to a weak breeze once more, though his jacket continued to rustle and flutter loosely around his shoulders. He was staring at the Bomber with his usual expression of displeasure and anger, but Jared felt that there was something else there. He wasn't quite as… wild as he usually was. Something about this anger seemed controlled, which was very unlike him. He certainly wasn't rushing at the criminal, which he had done in every other fight. That ought to be comforting, Jared thought, but at this moment it wasn't doing much to comfort him at all. In fact it was doing the exact opposite.

Jason's eyes met with Jared's for a split second. Every other time this had happened it had filled Jared with anxiety, nervousness and self-hatred. Jason's gaze was one that judged whoever was caught in it. But somehow Jared didn't feel any of that this time. Jason shifted his eyes back to the Bomber. His brow narrowed with focus.

The Bomber extended his arms outward in a wide, open greeting. "If you're here to help your friends, you've picked the perfect time." He declared. "I was just about to destroy that statue. Wanna watch?"

Jason didn't answer him. He just kept walking, slowly approaching.

"Or maybe you want to fight me again?" The Bomber continued with a wily grin. "Well you can try, but I should warn you, I've had a real tough time with your friends here and I'm not planning to go easy on y-"

Jason pulled his hands out of his jean pockets, pulled back his right arm, and threw something at the criminal. A small blast of air from his fingertip sent it flying across the shrinking gap between them into the Bomber's forehead. As the Bomber's head recoiled backwards, a bruise forming between his eyebrows, Jared saw the object hit the ground at his feet. It was the glowing green orb which they had recovered after their first fight with the Bomber. It was still glowing, though it was much fainter than it had originally been.

Jason suddenly broke into a run, his Quirk throwing him forwards with each footstep. He reached the Bomber in a heartbeat, and struck him in the side of the head with a hook punch. Then his Quirk went off again, and blasted the Bomber with a powerful shockwave. The limp shape of the young and healthy criminal went sailing off somewhere to the left. A crash followed after him, and a loud series of groans.

"That was for kicking me in the chest!" Jason shouted after him, his usual anger sharply returning. This was more like the Jason they knew and grudgingly acknowledged. He then turned to Jared, who flinched instinctively. "Get up already!" He shouted. "Jared stood up. "Grab that orb and heal your friend!" Continued the angry, explosive young man, pointing a finger at Aaren and Rylie. The both of them were sat and lying beside the statue of Heracles, and by the looks of it Aaren had not yet regained consciousness.

Jared didn't argue or question the command. He ran towards Jason, bent down and scooped up the glowing green orb, still running as he did so. He could feel his body getting stronger as he held it, his bruises and aches growing softer and disappearing. But he wasn't the one who needed it the most. Right now Aaren needed help more than he did. He turn and hurried over to her, while in the distance he heard the sound of rubble being moved.

He was by her side in seconds. Aaren had been laid on her back, and Madge was sat next to her. She was breathing now, though it was rather laboured and the right side of her face was showing more bruising now the dust had begun to slide away. He knelt down beside her, too her and, and placed the glowing green orb into it. He noticed Madge watching him. She had not seen the orb in action as he had. He could tell that she was sceptical.

He waited, her hand gripped in his. A minute passed, and nothing had changed. He began to panic, wondering if the orb wasn't working. Another minute passed. In the background Jared could hear crashing and violent explosions. The Bomber had escaped from the rubble and was fighting with Jason somewhere far behind him. His attention was focused solely on Aaren. She had to get better. She _would_ get better. The Aaren Whitley he knew wouldn't be brought down so easily. Any second now she would wake up.

Another minute, making a total of three. The orb's glow was beginning to fade, the once green colour now pale and diluted. Slowly it turned white, and then it stopped glowing all together.

"No." Jared muttered. He hadn't been quick enough. The orb no longer worked. It couldn't heal her anymore. He couldn't do anything to help her. "Damn it." He exclaimed quietly. His fingers squeezed her hand tightly.

There was a soft groan. Aaren's fingers twitched. Jared looked up at her, saw her face. Her eyelids twitched. Her fingers weakly curled and gripped his back. Slowly, tiredly, Aaren opened her eyes. She looked at him. He looked back, and tried not to cry with relief.

"Jared?" Aaren muttered, confused. Jared clasped his empty hand over his mouth. "You're alright?!" He said in joy

"Of course." Aaren said, weakly yet bluntly. She turned her head, and winced as the bruising on her face set off sharp sparks of pain. "What… happened?"

"The Bomber." He explained, gripping her hand tightly between both of his. "He set of this massive explosion… You protected me."

"Oh." Aaren groaned weakly. "Of course." Her eyes slowly turned downwards. "You can let go of my hand now."

Jared sharply released his grip, looking a little embarrassed. Perhaps he had been too blatantly concerned. Knowing Aaren she most likely did not appreciate the excessive sentimentality. At the very least she wasn't complaining about it much. She sat up slowly, with Madge helping her by letting her lean on her shoulder.

"Is the exam still…?" She began. Then she noticed the fight going on some distance from them.

Jason and the Bomber were exchanging explosive blasts of air, while occasionally swinging a punch or a kick. At the moment it seemed that neither of them had landed a proper hit on the other. Jason was being cautious and evasive for once in his life. Rather than charge in to fight his opponent head on as he usually did, he was instead choosing to hang back and dodge, dip, duck, dive and dodge around the Bomber's attacks. Perhaps the hot-headed, arrogant boy had finally learned something.

"We should get back into the fight." Jared told her, placing his hands under Aaren's shoulders and hoisting her up onto her feat. She winced painful as he did so, and almost collapsed onto her knees.

"Not so suddenly!" She complained, clenching her teeth.

"Sorry." Jared apologised. Perhaps she wasn't quite as healed as he had thought. Her body was still recovering. The orb had indeed worked long enough to heal some of her injuries, but it had not quite fixed all of them.

"I need a moment." Aaren insisted. "Don't worry about me. Help Jason and the others."

The Others. Jared glanced around. Madge had promised to make sure that Aaren was okay, and since she was still recovering Jared could only assume that promise was not yet complete. Rylie was also injured, though nowhere near as badly, but this meant that she had chosen to sit out of the fight as well. Elijah was hiding in the shadows of a nearby building, probably waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He was still sticking to the original plan. As for Ty, Jared had no idea where he was. He had been reluctant to do any fighting before, but now he had completely vanished from the face of the earth. Some teammate he had turned out to be. The only person still fighting the Bomber head on was Jason. Ultimately these were not very good odds.

"Will you be okay?" He asked her hesitantly.

"I'll be fine." She said comfortingly. "The exam's more important than I am. Focus on that."

Jared looked her in the eyes, and saw that usual determination and sternness that Aaren had. She would be fine. He was certain of that now. He turned away from her and approached the Bomber.

Jason had done well to avoid his opponent's powerful attacks to this point, but he was clearly beginning to tire. He and the Bomber stood twelve metres apart, arms extended to expel explosions at a moment's notice. It was humorous to see the two of them confronting each other with two different Quirks that had similar effects.

Jared didn't have a Quirk. He ought to be at a disadvantage in this fight. And yet he had managed to stand up to the Bomber multiple times now, putting up a solid fight. He was more confident then he would have been a few months ago. He knew he could do this. The original plan had gone completely out the window now. There were only three members of the group willing or capable of fighting. Jared would not be able to defeat the Bomber in a direct, hand-to-hand fight. But he might be able to do so if he was not the centre of attention any more.

Right now the Bomber had his attention focused completely on Jason Jones. This was the perfect chance for Jared to return to the fray.

"When did you become so cautious?" The Bomber asked, panting from the rigorous exercise that was a result of his attempts to hit Jason Jones.

The young man didn't as much as blink in response, though he did quite casually state "I was not giving my all last time. You did not see the best that I could do?"

"And you're giving your all now?" The Bomber retorted. "I'll admit, it _is_ better, but you alone can't hope to beat me." He raised his cannon arm again, trying to steady it as exhaustion started to take hold. "So, shall we continue? I have a feeling that this fight will end soon-"

He was right, although probably not in the way he had expected to be. Jared charged into him from the side, slipping his gloved fist underneath the Bomber's arm and punching him hard in the ribs. The Bomber retched, as he was shoved out of the way by the extra force of Jared's impact. The young man collided with him and knocked him over.

Jason stared at him. Jared shook his hand, having hurt it in the impact, and stared back at him. He smiled, giving Jason a nod. Jason did not nod back.

"What are you doing?" Jason asked him, his usually nasty tone reborn within his voice.

"I could ask you the same thing?" Jared retorted.

"I'm helping you guys win this fight!" Jason told him defensively, looking offended by the comment.

"I know…" Jared said, pausing for breath. "But, I mean, why? Why the change of heart?"

Jason looked away from him. For a minute second Jared was certain that he had seen gratitude on his face. "What you said earlier…" Jason began.

They were interrupted by the Bomber, who was now back on his feet. "Sorry to interrupt you two," He declared loudly, his cannon arm aiming between the both of them. "but we're supposed to be fighting here!"

He fired, shooting a small silver orb at the ground ahead of him. It exploded, sending out a large blast of air. The shockwave hit both Jason and Jared, but neither of them were knocked off their feet. The most it did was momentarily disorientate them. But in that time the Bomber had lunged, aiming for Jared.

Jared was prepared to fight him this time. He didn't have to rush. He just had to keep his attention from Jason so that he could do the real damage. He leaned back, ducking under the swinging cannon arm. As he did so he brought his left leg up and lashed out with it. The Bomber avoided being kicked in the stomach, but he did not avoid Jason's sudden punch which he had propelled forwards with a blast of air. It sent the criminal spinning, almost into a nearby building. He stopped himself against the wall and turned back around. Jared was upon him again. The power glove struck him in the stomach, making his internal organs clench from the force. The Bomber wretched.

While a series of attacks such as this might have brought down any normal person, it was not quite enough to stop the Bomber just yet. He shoved Jared back and lashed out again with his Cannon arm. Jared blocked it with his own arm, and quickly regretted it as the metal struck his forearm and made it crunch. He exclaimed in pain, and while he was distracted by the pain the Bomber aimed his cannon and fired at Jared's feat. The explosion threw him backwards across the plaza. He landed painfully but he managed to stand back onto his feet once more.

"Get up already!" Jason hissed at him, as he watched Jared push himself up into a sitting position. "This guy's strong! Our attacks aren't doing enough to bring him down!"

"I know." Jared muttered. "We needed to work together to do this, but now the others are too weak to fight. Only you and I are left." He paused, having now risen to his feet. "So why are you helping us now?"

Jason looked away again. "I said it earlier. How could I ever work with you?"

Jared stared at him. That comment had surprised him earlier, and still he wasn't sure what to say to him in response. But perhaps right now it didn't matter what he said. He just had to tell him the truth.

"We don't have a choice." Jared told him. "We have to work together, or else we all fail this exam. Whether we're capable of working together doesn't matter anymore. We _have_ to if we want to pass."

"You said something like that earlier…" Jason reminded him. "And I told you that you would never succeed."

"And yet you're here right now." Jared retorted. "So what changed?"

Jason closed his eyes for a moment. "You're right, okay!" He blurted out suddenly. Jared looked at him. He wasn't sure what he meant. Then Jason continued. "You're not responsible for who gets picked for this course. I just wanted to blame someone. It was easy to blame you because-"

"I'm Quirkless?" Jared finished for him.

Jason nodded. "But the point you made, about how we're all here because someone believes in us…" He continued. "I never felt that anyone believed in me. I always thought that I was alone here. But then you said that, and I sort of realised it. There is someone who believes in me. I wouldn't be here otherwise. I can't throw that away. I have to make them proud, whoever they are."

Jared smiled at him. This was the first time that he had felt respect for Jason. He had shrugged off the nasty, hateful, cold attitude in order to be honest with himself… and Jared had been the one to help him do so. "And I helped you realise that." He told him.

Jason chuckled weakly. "I would have probably figured this out by myself eventually." He said egotistically, "But you helped me realise it earlier... so yes, you did help."

Jared's smile shrank a little. At least he hadn't denied Jared's part in his revelation. That was an improvement.

"So, are you ready to start working with someone?" Jared asked him.

Jason gave him a hesitant glance, and then slowly nodded. "Yeah." He muttered.

The two teenage boys turned. It was about time this exam ended, and in order for that to happen they had to first defeat the Bomber. He was recovering from his injuries, taking a moment to rest. Now that their conversation was over he seemed to ready to start fighting again.

"Done yet?" He asked, wincing from the pain in his ribs. "Alright then, let's finish th-"

Ironically he was unable to finish that sentence. From the shadows behind him a quick hand had lashed out, struck him on the side of head, and just as quickly disappeared back into the shadow. The Bomber collapsed, stunned. This time, however, he did not get back up.

From the shadows Elijah stepped out, rubbing his hand. "Took me a while…" He called across to his teammates "but I found the right time to bring him down."

Jared and Jason looked at each other. Out of the many ways they could have defeated their opponent, this was certainly the most anticlimactic way they could think of.

The three of them stood over the criminal, surrounding him, all prepared for him to suddenly attack and send them flying. But that never happened. The Bomber was far to exhausted by this point. It seemed that the best way to defeat a criminal such as him was to tire them out.

Jared placed a shoe upon the man's cannon arm, just as a precaution. As the Bomber's eyes began to open again, he leaned forwards and held his power glove underneath his chin.

"Game Over." He stated dramatically. "Now… surrender!"

The Bomber held up his normal hand, unable to move his cannon from under Jared's boot. "Alright." He muttered weakly. "I give up, white flag… You win."

Jared couldn't quite believe it at first. His brain was not used to success, and as such did not know how to compute it. Realisation washed slowly over him. When it finally sank in, he let out a roar of delight.

"YEEEESSSS!" He screamed, stepped off the criminal's arm and running circles around him with his arms up in the air. "WE DID IT!"

The others all looked at him, some laughing at him, some smiling with him, some staring at him with either embarrassment or befuddlement. But Jared didn't notice any of them. He pumped his arms vigorously, cheering wildly. He had done it. He had beaten a criminal. He had passed the exam.

"Good work guys." Madge called to them. Jared, Jason and Elijah turned back to the three girls sat recovering by the statue of Heracles. Thankfully the golden figure hadn't even been scratched during their fight. Considering that explosions, concrete and occasionally some people had been throw everywhere, it was a miracles that absolutely nothing had struck the statue. The heroes themselves hadn't been so fortunate, but they would recover eventually.

Aaren had hurt the worst during this fight, but even she was smiling proudly by the end of it. She nodded at Jared. He nodded back. No words needed to be shared right now. They were both feeling the same thing.

"Well done." A small voice muttered from nearby. Jared turned sharply.

"Where on earth have you been?" He asked, as Ty Urban stepped out of the shadows.

"Hiding." Ty muttered.

"You could have helped!" Rylie shouted at him from the other end of the plaza.

Ty shook his head in disagreement.

Though Rylie was about to start shouting at Ty for his reluctant to fight, Jared didn't let it bother him. He had done well today. Now the exam was over, and he could go home feeling proud of himself.

At that moment there was a loud, electronic beep, loud enough to be heard across the whole COZ. A shrill, female voice with an American accent reverberated through the zone.

 _'The Exam has ended! All Teams have completed their tasks! Could all students and acting criminals please make their way back to the Entrance Gate?'_

The group looked at each other. One by one their smiles began to fade. Finally Rylie Taylor said what was on all of their minds.

"Acting criminals?"

"You didn't realise?" The Bomber asked them, coughing weakly.

"Realise what?" Jared asked him.

The Bomber began to laugh. "I thought you'd figured it out ages ago." He said with a smile. "So that stuff about looking at a map and figuring out where I would go, you really did that?"

"Realise what?" Jared insisted, starting to grow a little annoyed.

The Bomber slowly sat up, though right now he showed no interest in fighting any of them. If anything he suddenly seemed much more relaxed and calm. He even removed his eyepatch, revealing that the eye underneath was a perfectly healthy blue one.

"You're in an exam, kid." The man told him. "An exam for training wannabe heroes. Do you really think your teachers would just throw you up against a bunch of hardened criminals who could do anything to you?"

The other four had joined them now, and the seven members of Team 1 were stood in a huddle around the exhausted Bomber.

"What do you mean?" Aaren asked him cautiously.

"I mean…" Said the Bomber slowly. "That I'm not actually a criminal. This was all just a part I was hired to play"

There was a long, long silence.

"What?" Jared muttered.

"I'm not called the Bomber." Said the Bomber. "My real name is Reuben Shelby."

"You're not a criminal?" Rylie stated in shock. "Then what are you."

The Bomber - or rather, Reuben Shelby - shrugged casually. "Believe it or not… I'm actually a hero."

Another, much longer silence.

Then, in unison, the entire group blurted out...

"WHAT?!"

* * *

 **I will try and get the last chapter for this arc out by the end of the month. Right now I'm really tired and am going to rest. Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait.**


	28. Chapter 25 - A Discussion on Education

The large gates swung open again. It had only been a few hours since they closed. All in all the exam had passed much quicker than they could have expected. The sun was still up after all, and it had only just started to descent. Ravenhead was proud of his students. He and the other teachers had been watching each team from multiple cameras and drones active across the COZ. They had all worked really hard today. He would have to think up a way of rewarding them for their work. Perhaps the rest of the week off was a good idea.

The first couple of students started to arrive, and slowly the others came seeping back out of the false city district. Ravenhead was there to greet all of them, with a table of water bottles, energy drinks and sandwiches of various fillings. That had been his suggestion. One of his fellow teachers – three guesses as to who – had not even considered that the students might be hungry or thirsty after several hours of hunting down criminals. He had been forced to press for this arrangement. Ravenhead dreaded the idea of that teacher managing sports day on a sunny summer afternoon and failing to provide water, shade and sunscreen. He wondered if there was a law about this matter. There had to be, surely.

Three of the teams managed to arrive within ten minutes of the announcement. Teams Two, Four and Five had each been positioned relatively close to the entrance, and they had even brought their 'criminals' with them, still watching them suspiciously. Once beyond the large walls, the miscreants dropped their acts and started chatting jovially with the students who had captured them. The few students who had not yet realised that they were not actually criminals were surprised by the sudden change in character. That had been a clever idea, to include actual experienced heroes in this exam. They knew how criminals acted, what their goals would probably be and what the heroes would have to do in order to catch them. They also provided more of a challenge for the students than just a couple of well-paid performers, as well as making it seem more real. Ravenhead was jealous that this idea was not his.

The only teams still missing were Teams One and Three. Their targets had set up shop further into the site, so it only made sense that it would take them longer to make their way back. Coincidentally these were the two teams which each of the four extra students had been placed in. Eventually they did make it back, again bringing their targets with them.

Maisie's team was first. The people who had constructed the COZ had been farsighted enough to consider placing working cameras inside the major bank, so the teachers had seen everything that took place inside. Her actions had impressed Ravenhead quite a bit. Though she didn't exactly play the part of the leader, she took control when she had an idea and managed to overcome her social awkwardness in order to assist her teammates. Maisie's strengths seemed to be less in the area of combat and confidence and more in the area of support and initiative. Ravenhead had suspected that was the case, and so when it came to deciding the members of each team he had fought to have her placed alongside students with similar strengths with the goal of catching a criminal who avoided confrontation at all costs. He could not have been certain that she would benefit from these choices, but ultimately he had been proven right. She and her teammates walked beyond the gate, bringing with them their target, the elusive and cunning Hacker; whose real name was Katrina Black.

"You don't have to escort me anymore." The acting criminal was telling them "The Exam's over. My Job's finished."

Maisie, who was stood to the left of the woman, was holding one of the rope restrains that had been tied around her hands. Somewhere the group had found something to bind the criminal up with.

"As if we'd trust you." She said suspiciously.

"Little girl, I'm not a real criminal!" The Hacker insisted. "We've been over this. Your own headmistress confirmed that."

"Then why were you trying to break into the bank?"

"It's my job. And anyway, it's not a real bank!"

Ravenhead chuckled. Perhaps his students were taking this exam a bit too seriously.

"You can let her go, Maisie." He said, approaching the mean.

Maisie looked at him, and flushed apologetically.

"Sorry." She said weakly, untying the binds around the Hacker's hands. "So she's not actually a criminal?" She asked, looking for clarification from someone she trusted. Ravenhead nodded. "Sorry." Maisie said again, this time towards the Hacker, who was rubbing her wrists soothingly.

"No harm done." The woman said, reaching a hand up and scratching the area of skin around one of the USB ports on her neck. "Perhaps my performance was a bit too convincing."

"It was just what we needed from you." Ravenhead told her respectfully. "Thank you very much for assisting us today."

The woman nodded her head slightly. "It was a fun experience." She said, giving him a slight smile. "If you do this again next year I might offer to help out again."

 _Next year._ Ravenhead thought. _It might be a bit too soon to consider that yet._ _Let's just try and get through this year first._

Katrina Black, the hero who had played the part of the Hacker, had now walked away to grab an energy drink from one of the tables Ravenhead had prepared. He was now turning back to Maisie. He gave her a proud smile. She returned one, though it was much more nervous.

"You were watching us?" She asked.

"We were watching all of you." He told her comfortingly. "To make sure that nothing went wrong."

"And if it had?"

"We would have intervened, though you were in no real danger from any of the criminals. They knew what the exam was about and how far they could go with the act.

Maisie looked away uncomfortable. "Did I do well?" She asked him quietly.

Ravenhead didn't respond instantly. He took a second to think about what he could tell her without giving her too much hope. He was yet to discuss the results of the exam with the other teachers. Unlike the Combat Exam, defeating and capturing their target was not a guarantee that the student would pass the exam.

"You did very well." He told her, giving her as big a smile as he could manage with his feathered and beaked face. "Seriously, I was impressed. You've grown a lot this term."

Maisie's face turned bright pink. She covered it with her hands, though she wasn't sobbing. It seemed that the embarrassment of being complemented so highly was overwhelming her.

"Thank you." She muttered.

"It's quite alright." Ravenhead told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You should go get some rest for now. You must be tired."

"I am a bit." She admitted.

Maisie Collard walked away, passing the table of refreshments by and instead sitting down at the edge of the gravel path upon the soft grass. She really had grown a lot, Ravenhead thought. When they had met she had barely been able to stand before three grown adults, let alone a class of twenty four students. Today she had faced what she believed to be a dangerous and clever criminal, while also working with several other students, most of whom she didn't know at all. It couldn't have been easy for her to adjust to that, and yet she had. He knew he had made a good choice in giving her a place at the academy. Every day she was growing a little more confident and a little more capable.

Finally Jared and the members of Team One returned from their expedition. With them came the criminal they had named the Bomber; who was really Reuben Shelby, also known as Grenadier, the Number 92 hero in Britain. He was probably the most famous hero out of the five, but that wasn't a good thing. Picking actors who were too well known would have ruined the immersion required for the exam to work. Thankfully most people didn't know many of the heroes lower than Number 25. Even out of the Top 25 there were a few who were far more famous than the rest. Ravenhead had worked alongside Mr. Shelby before, though that was almost a year ago now. He didn't know him especially well, but what he had learned was that he had an interest in training upcoming heroes. He didn't quite have what it took to become a teacher at any of the academies across Britain, but he was perfect for the job of examiner.

Jared was personally escorting him. Unlike Maisie, they had not restrained their criminal, although looking at the state of him they may have considered it unnecessary. Ravenhead had watched the fight through the eyes of an observing drone hovering far above the plaza. The injuries which Reuben Shelby had received didn't look so bad from so far away. Now that he could see the injuries close up he felt a shiver of shame. He would probably have to call Cutter and get him to fix him up, as an apology.

As for the students themselves, they all looked exhausted. Aaren had been caught out by a nasty attack, and the bruises upon her body, while healing, were still rather darken in colour and swollen. Cutter would also have to check up on her as well. Most of the others were just fatigued, although they had injuries of their own. Rylie's tail was limp but most likely not broken, Madge had a few scratches on her hands, Elijah's knuckles were red, Jason was walking rigidly with muscle ache, and Jared… he had a few blemishes upon his face, where the Bomber had landed several punches. It had been tough not to call off the fight. At several moments Ravenhead had wanted to end the exam, so that none of the students would come to grave injury. Yet somehow they had found a way to turn the situation around again and again, and had avoided any serious harm in the process. He had to remind himself again and again that they were fighting to prove themselves. If he were to cancel the exam now he would not only take away that chance but he would also destroy their confidence. So he waited, and watched as one by one each team brought down their target and captured them.

"Well, this is where we say goodbye." Announced the Bomber as he and his Team passed through the gate. He turned around and confronted the seven students who had brought him in. "We should do this again sometime." He said cheerfully. "Good luck with the hero stuff." He paused in mid turn around, catching Jared's gaze with his own. "And you…" He said in a more hushed voice. "…have a nasty punch!" He leaned forward, and suddenly took Jared by the hand. "I look forward to working alongside you." He shook his hand viciously, swinging the boys arm up and down, threatening to snap it off by the elbow. Jared finally broke free of his grip after the fifth swing.

Then the criminal known as the Bomber walked away. As he left, heading for the car park not far from the COZ's entrance gate, he glanced at Ravenhead with his two blue coloured eyes. He winked. Ravenhead did not wink back, but instead he nodded. Mutual respect was necessary in this line of work, regardless of how well one hero knew another.

"He was a nice man." Rylie muttered cheerfully, her limp tail curled around her left arm. "Shame he was a criminal."

The rest of the group seemed to agree with that statement, although some of them wondered if Rylie had properly understood why they had taken the exam in the first place.

Ravenhead looked around. All of the students were now present and accounted for, both Junior and Senior, all thirty four. Though some of them were battered and bruised and most of them were exhausted, the exam had not snatched any of the away. That was good. It gave him hope for their future. The exams that would come later that year, and the years after if the academy was still standing, would only continue to get tougher and tougher. If they were overwhelmed now, they would never make it to the final exam; the moment where they were truly, officially recognised as heroes.

Team One had now dispersed, though the usual suspects were still together; Jared and his female friend, Aaren Whitley. Ravenhead couldn't quite hide his smile. Watching a troubled student like Jared making friends and building strong relationships made him feel an odd sort of joy. He and Maisie had made huge steps over the last couple of months. They had both started out as such nervous and unsure children. Now there was a fire of confidence starting to kindle. Perhaps by the end of the year it would have ignited into a blazing pyre. Aaren had not been one of the students he had picked, but he could see why Silver Streak had done so. She and Jared got along well. In fact he was now spending more time with her than with the Maisie. Perhaps there was something else forming there. Something that was only a seed at this moment, but given enough time and effort may bloom.

Jason was stood alone some distance from everyone else. He looked at the ground, not angry or annoyed or sad. He just looked at the grass beneath his feet emotionlessly. Ravenhead recognised this as a blank stare of deep thought. His brain had shut off connection to all external senses in order to focus upon an internal struggle. He looked up after a minute had passed, and then he walked across the gravel path, up to the table of sandwiches and energy drinks, and stopped as he reached Jared and his friends.

Ravenhead was stood at the other end of the table, taking small, triangular shaped bites out of a ham and cheese sandwich. Subtly he was observing and overhearing the conversation that was about to take place. He had lived long enough to spot when someone was about to start something. An instinct like that comes in useful when you're a hero. The question was whether what happened would be good or bad. The culprit was Jason Jones, so most likely he was about to start trouble, but Ravenhead always held onto hope that the more likely negative outcome would instead be replaced by a heart-warming positive one.

The short-fused young man walked up behind Jared, and extended a hand. If he was about to start trouble, this would be the moment where Ravenhead would have to intervene. Jason clamped his fingers around Jared's shoulder, pulled him back and turned him around. But instead of following up with a punch, or slathering him with derogatory insults, he let go of Jared's shoulder, took a step away from him, and said in an unusually quiet voice, "I want to speak to you."

"O-okay…" Jared said, looking at him with nervous confusion.

With a quick turn and apology to his friends, Jared went with Jason. The two boys walked across to the other side of the path, just within Ravenhead's hearing range. When they were away from the other students and teachers, Jason stopped and turned back to face Jared. Perhaps this would be the moment where punches were thrown… but again that didn't happen.

"About what I said to you…" Jason began. For some reason he was behaving more anxiously than usual.

"I won't tell anyone." Jared interrupted quickly, visibly scared of what Jason might decide to do with him he thought that Jared would blab about his personal life. So what Jason said next truly shocked him.

"I don't care if the others knows about that." The two boys looked at each other, Jason low and glum, Jared surprised and confused. "I thought about what you said to me. I thought about it for a while. You're right. I shouldn't blame you for something you aren't responsible for." He paused, his lips curling in mild disgust. "I… wanted to say… sorry."

Ravenhead almost let his water bottle slip from his fingers. Jason Jones, the reckless, violent, loud, brash, offensive, stubborn hoodlum… was apologising! He could not have prepared for this. He managed to restrain himself from laughing, but he couldn't stop the single tear of joy from sliding down his cheek.

"S-s-sorry?" Jared stuttered. Considering his blatant shock, he could have either been echoing the last word in Jason's statement or asking for the statement to be repeated.

"Yeah." Jason muttered, not at all proud that he was doing this. Yet that shame was undermined by the relief he was feeling because of it. "It wasn't right of me to mock you for something you can't help. You tried to help me today, and I attacked you in return. You should hate me, but you don't. I don't know how you can do it."

Jared looked away from him, awkwardly chuckling. "Well, I'm not exactly a saint. I did hate you for some time. I thought you were just another arsehole trying to wind me up." He scratched the back of his scruffy haired head. "But then I learned about your family… your father… and my hatred for you went away. Instead I felt sorry for you. I hope that doesn't offend you."

The old Jason Jones may well have been offended by the suggestion of pity aimed at himself. It would have probably enraged him. But right now, in his fragile state, Jason simply accepted it.

"I realised that hating you will not help you. It won't help me either." Jared continued. "So I decided to let it go, and try and make this work. At that moment my hatred for you stopped being important."

"So you forgive me… for everything I've said and done to you?" Jason asked.

Jared chewed on a few words for a second, then he said "You don't need my forgiveness. You haven't done anything to demand it."

Ravenhead did drop his drink this time. Such a mature comment from one of his students. He couldn't have dreamed of a moment like this. Two young men, with troubled pasts and a history of conflict, were choosing to forgive each other without demanding any compensation in return. Most adults could not make such a selfless choice as this.

Jason's eyes closed. From them tears began to form. "Why…?" He asked. "Why are you… being nice to me?"

Jared looked at him sympathetically. "Because I know what it's like to have a difficult dad." He explained simply. "He might be the number one hero to everyone else, but to me he's just a stubborn asshole. He's never done anything to help me or support me. He doesn't want me to become a hero. He doesn't even want to drive me to the academy, I have to walk most days. I didn't pick him as my father, but he is my father whether I like it or not. He may not have abused me, but that doesn't mean I love him. So I understand your anger at your dad. I probably understand it better than most other people. And that's why we have to keep pushing forward. I will never be my dad, and you will never be yours. But we should be proud of that, not ashamed. Keep fighting, and become the hero you needed, so that others like you do not suffer as you did."

If Ravenhead had not spent the last few seconds underneath the table trying to grab his drink with his talon fingers, he might have dropped it again. This exam had done more than just test his students. Some of them had done a lot of growing up in those few hours, more so than anyone could have possibly expected. Where had this shocking spurt of maturity come from? He had known about both Jared's and Jason's family situations, but he had not expected them to bond over it. He certainly hadn't expected them to use it as a motivation. Pushing forwards to fighting against the thing that caused you pain. Becoming the hero you needed but never got, so that others don't suffer as you did. That was such a pure ideal. If he could have, he would have made Jared an official hero right then and there. Pride swelled in his heart, enough to make his chest ache.

"I see…" Jason muttered in response. Though he was trying not to show it, Jared's comment had inspired him a little. His back had straightened, and his solemn expression had glimmered with a fresh sense of motivation. "…I will. I'll keep fighting. I'll become a hero who can stop abusive fathers."

"And I'll become a hero who will support the Quirkless." Jared said in response.

The two boys smiled. Then they chuckled. Ravenhead had known Jason for five months. He had been there at his audition during the entrance exam. In all that time he had never seen laughing with someone, not even a small chuckle.

"I believe in you kids." Ravenhead muttered quietly under his breath. "Make us proud."

From for across field his sharp eyes spotted Madam leaving through the back door of one of the large broadcasting vehicles. She must have been discussing the footage they had taken of the exam. She straightened her pink blazer and walked upon white high-heels across the gravel path, toward the wooden podium once more. A wireless microphone appeared in her hand. Ravenhead rolled his eyes. Of course she would be making another announcement. She was the sort of woman to do that. No matter the time or place, she always had some sort of announcement to make.

"Could I have all of your attention, please?" He declared, her lips barely an inch from the soft foam cover. She held it as if she was about to eat an ice cream cone. "Today's exam was tough, and some of you may feel exhausted and worried about your performance. But I want you all to know that no matter what your resulting grade may be, we are all very proud of you. Each team has succeeded in capturing their target criminal, which is astounding in itself, and this was done before the day was half way through. Take that home with you tonight. Remember that you managed to defeat your first criminal in little more than six hours."

 _Technically it's not their first criminal, as the five people we hired aren't actually criminals._ Ravenhead thought to himself. But that didn't mean their efforts were worthless. Regardless of the criminals' validity, their students had all worked hard to capture them. Madam's words didn't bother him too much.

"As a reward for all of your hard work today, we have decided to give you the rest of the week off to rest and recover." Madam continued, raising her voice to sound more perky and proud. "Next week will be your written exams, so remember to revise during your break. The COZ will be closing in one hour, so you are welcome to stay and socialize, eat or drink if you wish, otherwise you are free to go. Thank you all for showing up today… and congratulations!"

A good enough speech to make the students feel good about their work. Nothing anyone could say would cure them of their worry or doubt, that was part of being a student, but at least now they knew that their teachers were proud of the effort.

The speech had barely finished, and already half of the students were leaving. Most of the seniors had gone, either walking to their cars or waiting by a nearby bus stop, along with a few of the junior students as well. Only a few small groups remained. Some of the girls, A few boys, and Jared's cluster of friends. Maisie, Aaren, Jon, Payton Tate… and now Jason. Jared was introducing him to them. Ravenhead overheard something about going for a pizza. Apparently he would buy for all of them. Ravenhead wondered if he had the money.

Then, when he was satisfied that most of the students were either leaving or making arrangements to leave, he himself turned away and began walking. He was not leaving, however. None of the teachers were leaving. There were still matters to death with, and they would be confronted in the back of one of the broadcasting vehicles.

* * *

He closed the door behind him, shutting out the afternoon sunlight. This would be the tough part of his job. The part where he had to decide which students had passed the exam and which students had failed. If he could he would pass each and every one of them, but sadly there were rules against that. It was also not purely his choice to make. He and the other teachers were about to discuss the matter.

They had gathered around a fold-up metal table someone had set up in the back of the lorry. There just about enough room for them all to stand around it, though it was a tight fit. The entirety of Broadhurst Heroism Academy's staff were present; excluding the cleaners, who were not exactly relevant to the discussion they were about to have. Madam Broadhurst had applied her neatness to this meeting, and as a result each of the staff members were grouped up depending on their job positions. Ravenhead took his place between Aries and Dubstep, squeezing past Niko in order to reach his spot at the table. Opposite them were Silver Streak and Cyanide, both of the teachers for Class Senior. At the furthest end of the table was the headmistress herself, standing a foot shorter than everyone else. To her left was Dr. Cutter, dressed as usual in his white coat and looking rather uncomfortable about the dark, cramped surroundings. To Madam's right was a new figure, however; a tall, lanky individual dressed in a smart blue suit and trousers, with a tie knotted so tightly around his thin neck that it must surely be strangling him. He had shown up that morning, and had spoken to no one but Madam, and he had done that away from the other teachers and staff members.

"I think I should start this meeting off by stating how impressed I am with all of the work we've done this term." She stated in her usual upbeat, jovial voice that always seemed to make the avian hero's eardrums ache. "This was a risk for all of us, but each of you have taken your roles seriously and done the very best you can to teach our students. Keep this up and I'm certain we'll be directly competing with Obsidian Academy and Southwall College by the start of next year."

Ravenhead tilted his head. Perhaps such a claim was being too optimistic. Southwall was nearby, and easily accessible. It also had a large pass rate for students, many of whom went on to become small name heroes. Considering Obsidian Academy a rival was not just insane but suicidal. Forget for a moment that the academy was owned and run by the number three hero in the country. OA had a low pass rate compared to other hero training schools, but a high quality rate. Most of the students who came out the other side went on to become very capable heroes. Many of them were climbing the ladder of the hero roster rapidly. Some had already made it to the top twenty five. One of them, a young mister Bryce Armstrong - who went by the hero name Strong Arm, which he probably thought was very funny – had just recently taken the position of Number Six. BHA was yet to see any of its students pass their course. They had hardly begun studying yet. They still had much to learn.

"You could start by introducing our guest." Silver Streak interrupted, clearly not interested in wasting time with complements. Madam clearly recognised this lack of interest, and abruptly moved on.

"This is…" She began. But the man put a hand up to silence her.

"I can introduce myself." He stated in a posh, nasal voice. "My name is David Coombs. I am a member of the UK School, College and Academy Examination Board, specifically from the Education of Heroes' branch. I am here on behalf of the Board to oversee the first official, external, high-risk exam for the Hero Training Course at Broadhurst Heroism Academy."

"An examiner?" Ravenhead said. From what he understood it was not especially common nowadays for the Board to send someone to overview a hero training course exam in person. When the exam was set in a government built COZ such as this one the Board would simply watch the live feed from the site just as the teachers did. Sending an examiner in to physically overview the exam was not an especially good sign. It either meant that they suspected the academy was falsifying their results and fixing the exams, or they did not yet have a strong enough trust in the academy and had sent someone to secure that trust.

"Why did we not know about this?" Aries inquired.

"Mr Coombs asked that his presence was not made public until now." Madam Broadhurst explained. "For the sake of witnessing the exam unimpeded."

"I have found in the past that the presence of an examiner can create tension amongst both pupil and teacher." Explained David Coombs, sliding a wisp of brown hair away from his equally brown eye. "Such nerves can upset the overall result of the exam, and therefore it would not give me a proper impression of your work and your students' learning. I am not the only one who thinks this way. It has become common practice for us examiners to watch from afar, unseen and unnoticed."

 _That makes them sound like tigers._ Ravenhead thought. _Just waiting in the shadows of the jungle till the unsuspecting prey turns its head, and then they sneak up behind them for the kill_. But Mr Coombs wasn't a tiger. He very much doubted that Mr Coombs had anything to do with cats at all. He looked more like a dog person. His irrelevant trail of thought made him miss the last few words from Madam and their guest.

"…considering the abnormal arrangement you and your academy have made with the government." Mr Coombs ended his statement. He had been talking about the Academy's funding, which all came from Madam Broadhurst herself. All other academies were funded by their students or by the government, quite often by both and any additional sources willing to fund them. Mr Coombs had been discussing the trials that this unique setup had and would cause them, yet he did so while also complementing her. "Regardless of the drawbacks you most certainly face, it appears that you have hired an able and intelligent set of teachers and educators. Your students certainly seem to be learning, though the results of their written exams will shed more light upon just how much they've learned. There are, however, a few issues I wish to discuss with you and your colleagues."

Ravenhead's beak muscles clenched. This ought to be interesting. He didn't dislike government officials – he often had to work alongside them – but he didn't exactly trust them. Their opinion of what matters was different to his own. Where he saw potential and opportunity, they saw risk. Where he saw talent, they saw loose cannons. When he was a student he had trained alongside other potential heroes who were just as capable as himself, yet more than half of them had been denied that chance by men like Mr Coombs. Ravenhead didn't complain. Perhaps this examiner wouldn't be like that. He would let him talk, and he would listen intently, but that was not a guarantee that he would agree or accept his statements.

"Firstly, there's a matter of safety and precautions." He announced after taking a small wad of note paper from his chest pocket and flicking several pages over. "You have filled all the big boxes in this area; including a thorough risk assessment of the danger your students face, you also picked appropriate actors to play the part of the criminals. However, while examining your setup I found that one of the broadcasting vehicles you hired had not properly secured its wiring. They had failed to tape cords to the floor or tidy the smaller wires to avoid tripping hazards and electrocution."

"That's not our responsibility." Lorraine Osborn butted in. "That's the responsibility of the crew that brought it and the company they work for."

"Regardless, it posed a serious hazard to anyone in its vicinity, someone should have made an effort to make it safe." He ran his finger down the page. "Also, there was no effort made to cover up the gravel path outside the grounds. Gravel does not provide a stable enough footing for exhausted students to stand upon, and as such must be covered by a thick layer of plastic."

Ravenhead blinked. Was this really one of his complaints? "You think we should cover over gravel?" He repeated, not quite believing he had heard him correctly.

"Indeed. Under the recently updated article 32-C of Hero Training Safety Precautions, any flooring which possesses a risk of moving or breaking under foot is prohibited and must either be covered over or replaced immediately before use." The examiner stated casually.

"We didn't put the gravel there." Silver Streak spoke up now, an anger rising in his voice. "It came with the COZ. Your bosses most likely put it there!

"A gravel path poses the risk of severe injury to any student unfortunate enough to loose their footing upon it." Continued Mr Coombs. "Failure to cover it over suggests a lack of concern for the danger it puts your students in."

"Danger?!" Silver Streak shouted, striking the table with his fist. "They're training to be heroes! Heroes face danger all the time! It's the job!"

"But they are not heroes yet." Mr Coombs reminded him, with a voice so lacking in smugness and self-righteousness that it ironically made it impossible not to hate him. "They are just students. Teenagers and civilians. They are not ready for that sort of danger yet. You would do well to remember that."

"I think perhaps we are getting a little too hot about this matter." Madam interrupted before a proper argument could break out between the two men. She had picked the perfect moment, as Silver Streak looked like he would burst a blood vessel in his eye. "Mr Coombs, would you please continue with your complaints."

Mr Coombs straightened out a wisp of hair that had fallen across his right eye, sliding it neatly behind his ear. He coughed apologetically. "Where was I?" He said quietly. "Most of my remaining complaints about safety are minor matters. Lack of lighting for the darker hours, which fortunately was not required considering the speed at which your students finished the exam; Less than fifteen staff members on site at both Academy and COZ; No shade provided should the day get sunnier; only four packs of sixteen water bottles provided, making a total of sixty four bottles, excluding energy drinks, which are not a proper source of hydration; No mention of student allergies or foods and snacks provided free of said allergies; No official declaration of limitation for the acting criminals, with minimal suggestion of what they can and cannot do to the students; minimal effort to prevent the possibility of severe injury; Minimal medical support, none of which was inside the COZ itself; and finally, no fire extinguishers anywhere on site."

That was the end of his list, at least upon that matter.

Ravenhead scratched the back of his head, as his mouth slowly opened and closed. So many complains, coming seemingly from nowhere. They had all made thorough checks of the site, analysing safety over and over and making every choice they could to keep their students safe. Now this man was saying that they had missed so much. Some of his complaints were ridiculous. It was currently October. Most days were cold and overcast. Today had been sunny, but nowhere near enough to cause sunburn or even sunstroke. Allergies. None of the students had any severe allergies. That had been something they had acquired from each students' families when they first joined the academy. While they did only have the one medical officer on site, he had free roam of the COZ, and knew his way around as well as he knew his own reflection. They had not had any staff active inside the COZ grounds in order to keep the illusion that the students were fighting real criminals. And surely sixty four bottles of water was enough for twenty four junior students, ten senior students, five teachers, one medic and the headmistress. Some of his complaints were valid. Since the Academy was new and self-funded, they did not yet have the fame or money to hire more staff. As for the fire extinguishers, they were not present because of budget cuts. The complaint that annoyed Ravenhead the most, however, was about them not giving their acting criminals proper instructions. He himself had talked with all five of them about the subject for almost five hours only a few days before. He had made sure that each and every one of them knew what they were doing, who they were facing, what their goals were and what they absolutely, under no circumstances, could not do to the students. Had this man even spoken with the heroes they had hired for the past. How could he just assume they hadn't made the effort, simply because he hadn't seen it?

"Is that all you have to say?" Asked Dubstep, who was also growing a little impatient with the man.

"Not quite." Mr Coombs responded, turning over another page of his notebook. "While those are last of my notes on safety, there is another matter which I wish to discuss with you all." He turned now to Madam, as it seemed his next statement was directed at her specifically. "While I must admit I was not expecting all five of your students' teams to complete their tasks, and am actually quite impressed by their victory myself, this abundant success creates a massive problem in the area of fraudulent examination."

There was quiet amongst the staff members of Broadhurst Heroism Academy. Each of them looked at their guest suspiciously.

"What are you suggesting?" Dr Cutter finally asked, shattering the silence like a hammer to a glass window. "You think we will forge the results."

"I do not think that." Mr Coombs clarified, straightening his lapels with a gentle hand. "I saw the exam for myself. I would have no issue if you were to pass each of your students for their efforts." He paused, letting his hand drop to his side as his expression suddenly became sterner. "However, I very much doubt that the Board would see it that way. As I'm sure you're aware, this country has a sixty-six percent pass rate quota. All places of academic study, regardless of subject, must reach a pass rate of sixty six percent on all of its provided courses among its students, else the course is deemed ineffective and is either revamped or revoked." A fly buzzed past Mr Coombs, brushing against his tie. "What you might not know is that this quota also applies to the number of failures among students. At least ten percent of students taking place in any exam upon any course must fail, or reach a grade of D or lower. Any higher and the Board become suspicious." The fly continued to buzz, gaining hight and hovering around Mr Coombs' chest. "They might start to believe that you are forging your results, and if they believe that…" He clapped his hands together suddenly, squashing the unfortunate fly between his fingers. "…They will shut down your academy!"

The silence continued after that, the echo of the clapping hands filling their ears.

"That… is… ridiculous!" Aries stated after some time had passed.

"It is true." Mr Coombs assured him. "I'm only telling you this out of respect. You are a newly founded academy, you would not know this yet. By telling you I'm saving you the trouble of experiencing an inquisition from the higher up members of the Board."

"That cannot be true!" Aries continued. "Your Board of Education cannot seriously think it better to unfairly fail a few students instead of accept that more than ninety percent passed an exam!"

"It is better to be safe than sorry." Mr Coombs reasoned. "It would be far too risky for the board to allow incapable students to become heroes. Imagine what effect that could have. People would lose trust in you heroes, and trust in us as well. Then what? The criminals win. Strict control is necessary to avoid such a catastrophe."

"And what if they learn that we didn't forge the results and all of our students are capable of becoming heroes?" Ravenhead interrupted, now deciding to join this conversation. He was in a similar state of astonishment as Aries, though till now he had managed to keep his cool. But now he had to speak. "What then?"

"They wouldn't." Mr Coombs explained. "They would take one look at your results, decide it is forged, make an inquisition in person, then shut down your academy. Then none of your students become heroes. This is the only place they could go to learn. Without your academy they have nowhere."

"Don't you dare…!" Ravenhead growled, gritting his beak. "Don't you dare say that this academy is the bottom of the barrel!"

"Yorke, please stay calm." Madam quietly said. Ravenhead turned to her, hoping that she might agree with him. This was her academy, the academy she had started. She ran it. She cherished it. It was her child. But then he saw her eyes. The stare she was giving him…

"You knew about this?" Ravenhead realised.

"It is an awful requirement…" Madam assured him. "…but one we must follow to survive. I agree with it no more than you do, but what choice do we have but to obey the rules. It's what heroes do after all."

"Quite right." Mr Coombs agreed. "After all, if you heroes cannot obey the law, who can?"

 _You don't get to say that!_ Ravenhead thought angrily. _You don't have a clue! You've never been a hero! You've probably never even met one!_

The idea of failing even one of his students unjustly was enraging him. Failing one for a just reason was fine for him. Failure could teach a person a lot, not just about what they had failed but why. But unjust failure, false failure… what did that teach anyone. It would just destroy their morale. Many of the students were already facing anxiety and stress simply at the idea of doing exams. That was natural for students. Doing this… failing one in ten students simply because it was a requirement… it could destroy them. He couldn't do it. Regardless of whether the student deserved it, he couldn't fail any of them for such a reason.

"If it will make the decision easier for you…" Mr Coombs continued. "You will only need to fail one of the students from Class Senior in order to reach the ten percent failure rate for their course. I would recommend failing Naomi Sadler. She did next to nothing to help her teammates capture their target criminal. Her Failure would be more just. For Class Junior you will need to fail at least three of the students for it to reach a percentage equalling ten or higher. I have a few suggestions."

"I bet you do." Ravenhead muttered. He got a cold glare from Madam for saying that, but he didn't feel sorry about it.

"It has come to my attention that you have accepted three unique students into your academy." Mr Coombs stated, pretending to read from the notes he had made, though it was clear even to Ravenhead that he had memories these names in preparation for this moment. "Those students would be Ty Urban, Catherine Griffiths and Jared Wreath. The two prior are registered as individuals with Type Five Quirks and the later one is registered as Quirkless. The way I see it, these three would be the best candidates for failure in the eyes of the board."

Ravenhead's fingers clenched the table to tightly that they pierced the thin metal. This scumbag! This rat bastard scumbag of a man! He had picked their deliberately. This wasn't justified failure at all. He had watched both Team One and Team Three personal. Each member of those teams had put in the biggest effort they could. They had done so much to overcome their faults and disabilities. And this man was going to crush them just so he could fulfil a quota.

"Not Jared!" Ravenhead growled, his talons scraping the metal of the table and creating a quiet yet sharp squeaking.

"Mr Wreath is certainly a determined, talented and capable young man…" Mr Coombs told him, yet again trying to complement the academy before insulting it completely. "…However, he is also Quirkless. Forgive me for saying this, but the public will not accept a Quirkless hero. How could they expect him to protect them when he can barely protect himself? He did well fighting your 'Bomber' today, but how will he fare against a real criminal, an individual out to end human lives?"

"This is what this course is for!" Ravenhead snapped at him, losing control of his voice and accidentally squawking the last few words. "This academy was founded upon the grounds of offering education to those who normally would not be accepted. It was built to train students who would not be accepted by any other academy and prove that anyone, no matter their Quirk or lack thereof. Failing the three students who truly represent that ideal would go completely against that ideal! The day I give up on any of them is the day I stop being a hero!"

The other teachers were looking at him. None of them had seen Ravenhead this worked up, not even during conflict with villains. Even Ravenhead was surprised by how angry he was. This blazing rage, born from nothing, set solely on consuming the ideals of Mr Coombs and his Board of Education.

"Yorke…"

He simmered down slowly. Aries was looking at him sadly, his horned head drooping slightly. Ravenhead was now concerned. What was his friend about to do?

"I understand your anger, Yorke…" Aries said slowly, "But the fact remains that some of our students have not done enough to pass the exam today."

Ravenhead's brown furrowed. "You think Catherine, Ty and Jared should…"

"Not all three of them." Aries cut him off. He followed up with a deep breath. "Just Ty."

The attention of the teachers was now turned solely to Aries.

"You want to fail Ty Urban?" Cyanide said in shock.

"I don't want to." Aries admitted. "But the fact is he has done next to nothing during this exam. He stayed back, watching from afar. He did no planning, no helping, no supporting, nothing but watch. Under the rules we created for this exam he has failed." He turned now to Mr Coombs, who shocking was not smiling maliciously, but simply observing with a smooth and emotionless face. "So there's one of your three. I hope that makes you happy."

"Not happy." Mr Coombs reassured him. "But that is not enough. Two more must fail."

Madam suddenly raised a hand. "I have a proposal for you all." She stated jovially. "If a certain number of students must fail, then I suggest we pick one from every team. Specifically we pick the student who did the least work in each." She raised two fingers, swearing accidentally at Dr Cutter, who looked slightly miffed. "We have already decided that Naomi Sadler and Ty Urban have failed the exam, as they have done almost nothing to assist their teams. That means that Team One and Four have a failed student each. Now we simply pick the failed students from Teams Two, Three and Five."

Ravenhead thought on that for a second. While it was not a perfect solution, it was better than Mr Coombs' suggestion. At least now the students who failed would have justly done so, they would not be picking them out on bias.

"I think we should fail Jean Templin." Cyanine stated, overcoming her shock about the situation. "He did nothing for Team Two but bother Olivia Fenn while Farid Chakravarty and George Asher did most of the work."

"That's three." Madam said, raising another finger. "And the others."

"Anny Volksmarcher for Team Five." Dubstep joined in. "Vhile she did try to help the others, she vasn't able to do much, and she spent most of the time hiding vithin one of her portals. Perhaps failing her vill help her understand that she needs to grow her confidence more."

"Good." Madam said. "We just need Team Three now."

Ravenhead looked down at the table. He knew who Mr Coombs wanted to fail from the team. The truth was Catherine had made a huge improvement during this exam. She had been able to use her Quirk in front of other students, even if they were looking the other way with their eyes closed at the time. It was a massive step forwards for her. Though she was not one of the students he had personally vouched for, he didn't want to make the choice to fail her either. Then again, he didn't want to fail any member of the team. They had all done well, and had worked better together than the other four. In their teams at least one person had not tried any sort of teamwork, but in Team Three each of them had done something to assist the others. So deciding was difficult. Finally he made a choice for the group. He felt awful about making it, but they had agreed that somebody had to fail.

"Lu Xiong." He told them after a moment. "Out of everyone in Team Three he did the least."

"Okay then." Madam announced. "So there you have it, Mr Coombs. Your failed students. Five of the thirty four. I believe that equals more than ten percent."

"It certainly does." Said Mr Coombs, a pleased look now rising upon his face like the morning sun. It was nowhere near as majestic. In fact Ravenhead found it quite aggravating. "That is all I wish to discuss with you today. Thank you very much, Ms Broadhurst, and to the rest of you." He squeezed past Cyanide and Silver Streak to reach the door. "I'll let the Board know of your work here today. I expect they will be impressed."

Once the door was closed behind him, Ravenhead felt safe enough to mutter the following words: "Arrogant Prick!" He looked around the room and was surprised to realise that his colleagues seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Is that all?" Asked Silver Streak, who was fidgeting with one of the chains hanging from his jacket sleeve.

"Actually there is something I wanted to quickly discuss with you." Madam told them hurriedly, seeing the tired and annoyed expressions of her employees and associates slowly rise. "Since all of our students have done so amazingly well this term I thought it might be a good idea to reward them. It would show them that we appreciate their hard work."

The group slowly began to cheer up. That sounded like a good idea, better than anything Mr Coombs had suggested.

"What sort of reward?" Cutter asked, folding his arms casually.

"I was thinking something along the lines of a day out." Madam explained. "Perhaps a trip to the high-end district or the Museum of Natural History."

"We could make it educational then?" Cyanide proposed.

"Vhat better way to teach students-" Dubstep added, "-than through entertainment?"

A day out? Ravenhead liked that idea quite a bit. During his time at school they had very rarely given the students such opportunities. Only on holidays did they even decide to do anything other than the usual curriculum. Something like this could really help improve their morale and self-worth. It would give them a chance to relax and socialise, as well as free themselves of stress for a short time. He was all for the idea of a day out. But now the big question what where to go and what to do.

"Perhaps we could do something a bit more unusual." Aries suggested.

"Like what?" Cyanide asked. "A Sports Day? A Swimming Gala?"

Aries shook his head, his horns scratching the wall behind him. "Since we want to make this education, I was thinking it would be a good idea to do something that would relate to their training." He explained.

"How so?" Asked Cutter.

"Today's exam was about working in teams to catch fake criminals." Aries said, smoothing his goatee with a thick finger. "While it tested their ability to work in teams, it doesn't quite give them a proper exam of what a hero's job is like. So, perhaps it would be a good idea to introduce them to real hero work."

"You think they are ready for that?" Cyanide asked.

"I'm not suggesting we send them out on their own." Aries explained hurriedly. "Just that we give them a chance to witness hero work for themselves."

"Okay then." Madam said with a nod of interest. "So, any ideas?"

The group was quiet for a while, all of them in thought.

Ravenhead pondered on what possibilities lay in front of them. They wanted this day out to be both entertaining and educational. There were certainly plenty of things in the world that provided both of those things. But then how to relate that to their course. They could take them to one of the museums on heroes, but then would that bore some of the more energetic students. They could visit the Hero Movement's headquarters, but he doubted they could get permission for that. They could arrange a sports day, but the students were probably far too tired for that right now. Then an idea popped into his head. It was a intriguing idea, but also a risky one. If they went through with it then then each of them would have to plan out every part of it carefully. No doubt some of his colleagues would disapprove, but it was worth discussing at least, just to put it out there as an option.

"What about a trip beyond the wall." He suddenly announced.

The discussion which had been going on around him sharply halted. Six paired of eyes all turned to him.

"Vhat?" Dubstep asked after a moment's passing.

"Yeah." Ravenhead continued, lighting up at the possibility he was about to suggest. "A short expedition to the other side of the London Wall."

"You want to take those kids… into Scarow?" Silver Streak interpreted.

"We don't need to take them deep into the city." Ravenhead continued quickly. "So long as we stick close to the wall we shouldn't face too much trouble. Kameron said we should give them a chance to witness real hero work. Where else is better than Scarow? Many heroes in this country work there full time."

"Because that place is overrun with criminals and gangs and mobs and villains." Cutter reminded him. "Sending our students there unprotected would be insane."

"We'll be with them." Ravenhead reassured him. "In fact we could probably plan out some tasks or events for them to take part in, or at least watch. We could give them a proper demonstration of what hero work really is like. We could even book out a few rooms at a hostel and stay for about a week, having different events each day."

"You're getting a bit too far ahead." Cutter said, holding up a hand. "What about safety? What about security? We can't guarantee that our students won't be hurt. Crime rates are rising in Scarow. There's even talk of criminal organisations starting to form."

"But most clever criminals don't go near the wall." Aries said, speak up in Ravenhead's defence. "They stay away from it because of our presence there. If the students are kept within a few blocks of the wall it's quite unlikely they're run into any seriously dangerous individuals."

"But that's not a guarantee." Cutter continued. "Their parents and families won't agree to this idea. I doubt the Board of Education will agree to it either."

"Sod the Board." Dubstep muttered. "They vouldn't let us take the students to a petting zoo for fear that a goat might bite someone. I doubt that ve can make this a risk free trip, but ve can certainly make it an entertaining and educational one."

"Peter said it himself." Ravenhead said, pointing a hooked fingernail at his white haired colleague. "Risk is a part of this job. We can't hide our students from it. They were at risk of being hurt today. They will be at risk of being hurt in Scarow. Our job is to stop them being seriously hurt or killed. We can manage that. We're heroes, after all."

Silver Streak was looking back at him, staring at the finger. Ravenhead had never found himself agreeing with the man before, but in this situation he had made a valid point. Heroism was all about putting yourself at risk. They could let their students experience that without being in any serious danger.

Peter Jensen Jr narrowed his silvery eyebrows, and spoke in a quiet voice as smooth as polished steel. "You… are out of your mind!"

Ravenhead looked at him in surprise. "Sorry?" He said.

"You want to send our students into Scarow?" Continued the Number Thirteen hero. "You want to send them to… that place!"

"Other academies have done it before." Aries reasoned.

"But those students weren't first years!" Silver Streak snapped. "They'd had experience with real criminals before!" He turned back to Ravenhead. "You want to send them to Scarow. You might as well be sending them to hell."

"Peter, you're being overly dramatic." Madam interrupted. "Scarow is certainly a troubled city, but it is not quite as severe as that."

"When was the last time you went there?" The silver haired hero asked her, giving his boss a stern look of doubt. Fortunately for him Madam didn't seem to take offence.

"Yorke and Kameron have a made a valid point. So long as the students stick close to the wall they shouldn't be in any serious danger. And regardless of that, we will be with them at all times." She turned now to Ravenhead. "I think your idea is a very good one." She said with a optimistic smile. "It would give the students a proper chance to witness and experience the profession they are entering. It sort of reminds me of when my dad first took me see him capture a criminal. I was only eight." She added those last two sentences in a quiet, dreamy voice. "I will start making arrangements." She announced suddenly. "We can hire a hostel near the wall for several days, and discuss the activities we can provide with the heroes and police in charge of that area."

"Madam, you're not serious, are you?" Cutter asked her with a shocked expression. It appeared that he too was amazed to realise that he was siding with Silver Streak on something. "Most of our students are barely eighteen. We can't let them witness the sort of crime that's rampant in Scarow."

Madam saw his expression, and returned it with her own comforting, reassuring smile. "We can organise a few activities for them, ones which will not bring them face to face with that sort of crime. If they are only dealing with petty crimes they will not be confronted with anything too dangerous or disturbing."

"They would probably be allowed to patrol the wall." Aries spoke up. "Perhaps they could also deal with simple crimes such as theft." He snapped a finger suddenly. "And we could even give them an example of what criminals are actually like."

They looked at him uncertainly.

"How do you propose we do that?" Asked Cutter.

"A while ago I was brought into contact with a member of the underworld who is looking to change his ways." Aries told them all, with the sort of optimism and joy one might have if they were telling their friends about their plans for an upcoming holiday. "If I speak with him he might be interested in taking part."

"Which member of the underworld was this?" Silver Streak said in a suspicious voice.

Aries stood up straight. "Walter Thalassa."

There was a gasp from several of the heroes.

"Thalassa?!" Silver Streak exclaimed. "That man-eater! You want him around our students!"

"He has already served ten years in prison, and spent three of those in solitary confinement." Aries began to explain. "He is currently out on parole for good behaviour. I honestly believe that he wants to change. A man like him would be useful to me in my area of work, and perhaps he could be useful to the students also."

"He's a murderer!" Silver Streak shouted, trying to drill the facts into his colleague's thick, horned skull. "You want a murderer around kids?!"

"Not by himself." Aries continued. "I will be with him at all times. And if it makes you feel any better he's agreed to wearing a muzzle."

Ravenhead had no real input for this argument. He had never heard of Walter Thalassa before. He sounded like a dangerous criminal, and Silver Streak had a point, but at the same time Aries' argument sounded honest. Perhaps this man wanted to change, and perhaps he could offer some useful insight for the students. Ultimately this was Madam's choice to make, however.

Everyone turned to her expectantly.

Madam let out a small sigh. "If he is willing to offer his support than we will accept it." She stated calmly. "However, Kameron, you are to be with this Mr Thalassa at all times. He is not to go anywhere unaccompanied by you, and he is to keep his muzzle on no matter what. If there is even the slightest chance that he will attack one of our students we will be throwing him back into a cell and ending the trip. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly." Aries told her. He looked a little disheartened by the strictness of her ruling, but at least his idea had been heard.

"Right then." Madam continued, shrugging off the stress and strain of managing an academy. "I think that's everything sorted then. We'll meet on Monday to have a proper discussion about what we will be doing, and I will do what I can to arrange with the Scarow Police what areas of the city we can go to." With a jaunty hand she waved them away. "See you all next week!"

* * *

 **I promised that I would upload this chapter by the end of the month and I did, so that's an improvement at least.**

 **This is the final official chapter for Arc 2 of this story. The next full chapter will be beginning Arc 3, which I'm lovingly referring to as the _Scarow Field Trip Arc_. I'm going to be introducing some new details about the world, specifically about Scarow City, the Wall and the Hero Movement, as well as adding a few new protagonist characters and introducing the villains for the series. So look forward to all that... if I manage to get round to it.**

 **I will be uploading a few short Interlude chapters between then and now, and hopefully I'll be back to continue the story properly in a month or so.**

 **Thanks for supporting me this far!**


	29. Interlude II

**Jared Wreath's Half Term Report**

* * *

 **History of Quirks and Heroes**

In class Jared seems to go through two different stages of study: healthy interest and curiosity in the subject and utter disinterest complemented with sleep. Though he is more often in the prior mood, the later has shown itself several times to impressive extent. When he applies himself he is capable of understanding the material he has been asked to study, and has in his own unique way remembered and added to his studies. Several of the homework essays I have set have been returned to me with well written discussions upon them, though a few have also been returned to me black, and some I am still waiting to receive. His seemingly random moments of waning interest are hindering him greatly. I am aware of Jared's emotional struggles within the class and at home as he has discussed these with me in person, but while this is unfortunate and understandably difficult for him it is not an excuse for him to not try. He has already proven that he can apply himself when he wants to, and that he has a good brain within his head. He needs to motivate himself to push through the tougher days a bit harder.

Though he is clearly trying, Jared needs to do more to push himself. His bad days are starting to grow more frequent. If something can be done at home to improve this I would suggest doing so. If he continued to sleep in class he could end the year with poor grades.

 **Yorke Victorsson**

* * *

 **Quirk Law**

It seems that Jared is more interested during these lessons. He does not wallow or sleep as often during our lessons on Quirk Law as he does in other classes. Understandably his intrigue seems to be in the area of treatment of Quirkless individuals. Several of the homework essays that have been set during class were upon this subject, and each of them he has returned at A grade quality. This furthers me belief that, as much as he may say otherwise, he has a capable, intelligent brain within that head. He clearly has a deep interest in this subject, although he would do well to remember that Quirk law does not solely focus upon the treatment of Quirkless individuals. While he has clearly learned a lot about the historical and current treatment of Quirkless individuals, he appears to forget quite often the simpler, more relevant details about Quirk Danger Levels, Quirk Management, Quirk Education and instructions for containing hazardous Quirks. Perhaps he should make an attempt to push himself out of his comfort zone and attempt to look deeper into the areas of the subject outside his normal interests.

Overall Jared has done well during this class, though he has not quite reached what I fear could be his true potential. If he can focus his attention onto other areas of this subject he may be able to finish the year with very high marks.

 **Yorke Victorsson**

* * *

 **British Law**

Jared appears to struggle a bit with the difference between official, government ordered law and personal views on justice. He has not yet realised that his view of what should be legal is not the same as it being legal in the eyes of the examiner. I have had several discussions with him on the subject. It is true that law can be tricky and imperfect, but while I admire his desire to change the imperfect laws his attitude will not help him pass the course. Instead of studying how these laws came to be, discussing their use rationally and examining how the law has affected our society, he instead chooses to write papers ranting about how one singular, small law is hindering a small group of people. While he is not always wrong, it is not the purpose of the lesson. At least he seems capable of understanding the laws we have studied in class, researching them properly and explaining their purpose through both written and spoken word. He is evidently capable of relaying and researching information on the subject, and is clearly interested in it too. He needs to realise however that sometimes aggressive rants are not the best way to solve an answer.

I may suggest that perhaps Jared speak with a counsellor about his anger towards laws that effect Quirkless people. As it is, Jared is doing poorly in this class. If he continues this way I doubt he will manage to achieve a C grade.

 **Kameron Morse**

* * *

 **Criminal Psychology**

Jared appears to be uniquely capable within these classes. While his empathetic views have proved a hindrance during our classes on British Law, it has provided him with an interestingly introspective mind for our Criminal Psychology classes. While it has taken some of the other students a bit of time to understand that criminal acts are not purely performed by bad people, Jared was able to understand the subject in seconds. Several of the homework essays he has returned to me were full to the brim of observant, thoughtful and respectful discussions on what drives a person to commit crime. Though most of his work has been fantastic thus far, perhaps he can be a little too lenient with his opinions. In one class we discussed a criminal's use of bladed weaponry to kill three police officers, only for them to then save a child from being hit by a car. Jared deduced that the criminal should receive a shortened sentence for rescuing a child. His opinion on shortening a man's prison sentence, even though he took three lives before saving one, is a little too optimistic of a view. It seems he sometimes forgets the bad actions a person has made if they are later followed by good actions.

I feel that Jared is well suited for this subject. He is capable of understand and analysing the actions of criminals in cases we have examined, though his optimistic view of them sometimes leads him believe that he should be lenient in his actions as a hero. As much as it is important to remember that criminals are also human beings, you should not completely forget the crimes they have committed, especially if they are serious matters like murder. He could easily end this year with an A grade if he can overcome this small issue.

 **Kameron Morse**

* * *

 **Geography**

I have never before seen a single student sleep so much during a class. I understand that my class is on a Monday and after both PE and lunch, but with the extent that Jared sleeps during my lessons I would assume that he did not do so at home. Though more extraordinarily he does not appear to be struggling with the subject when he is awake. Though there have been moments of confusion and several mistakes when following maps and finding locations, he has overall been able to follow the subjects discussed in each lesson. He figured out relatively quickly how to read a map and how to plan a route through a busy city to a specified destination. It is truly a bizarre phenomenon that he should sleep so much during my classes and yet be doing so well. Though while he is capable of working perfectly fine with a map by himself, when planning routes and finding landmarks in a group he appears to struggle, less with the actual activity and more with the group itself. One particular time when he was pared up with Jason Jones and Lu Xiong he and Jason got into an argument over which main road would get them from Oode to Sontarr faster. Teamwork is a vital aspect of a hero's job, and he would do well to remember that while in the classroom as well as out on the PE field.

Overall, Jared has doing well during this class, which is truly a surprise considering some of his behaviours. Overall he appears to be aiming for a B grade, though I'm sure that if he tried harder he could reach an A by the end of the year.

 **Niko Mikhaelov**

* * *

 **Physical Education**

Out of all the students who study at this academy, Jared has struggled the most out of everyone in the area of Physical Education. This is primarily because of his lack of a Quirk. However, while he is behind almost every other student in almost every other area of the class, he has made the biggest improvements out of everyone. Every day he turned up ready to train and push himself further, rarely has he missed a lesson, even when it's pouring rain. He has continued to push himself each and every day, often to the point of collapse, and he always manages to get back up again. As much as he is behind the other students, none of them have put in as much of an effort as him. For that reason I can't see him getting a grade any lower than a B.

He still has a long way to reach the requirements needed of a hero, but with his determination and continuous efforts I'm certain that he can make it through the course as the student who has improved the most. He has to learn to push past the doubt and difficulties of his situation and strive forward to reach his real potential.

 **Yorke Victorsson**

* * *

Jared lowered the paper. His eyes had been skimming it over for the las couple of minutes, absorbing the ink through his retina.

"What does he mean, ' _Jared appears to struggle with the difference between official, government ordered law and personal views on justice_ '?" He asked, looking rather peeved about the comment.

"Don't know." Said Maisie, lifting her eyes from her own report sheet. "Sounds negative to me."

"He's saying that I'm not doing what he wants me to do." Jared stated, still annoyed. "As if that's a bad thing. I don't agree with some of the laws we have. Big surprise, many people don't. I thought we were supposed to discuss the matter?"

"I thought we were supposed to just do what we were told." Maisie responded, burying her gaze into the page once more.

"Can't believe that." Jared muttered. "He doesn't even mention the good essays I wrote, like the ones about the ridiculous laws applied only to Quirkless people."

"Hmm." Maisie said. Clearly she didn't know how to respond to Jared's ranting, but she didn't want to seem as if she wasn't paying attention.

"Bloody Aries!" Jared muttered in annoyance, throwing the paper aside. It floated gently down onto the bedroom floor. "What did they say about you?" He asked, turning now to Maisie in a calmer manner.

"Nothing much." She said, hiding her eyes behind the paper. "Just that I need to do more to stand out, and that I'm a little too shy around the other students."

"Right." Jared folded his legs, leaning forward on his arms. "So, that's the end of the first term then." He said, more so to himself than to her. "It was our first few months on the course. Perhaps next term will be better."

"Before that, though…" Maisie said, looking up with excitement. Jared met her gaze, and he too smiled with a rising sense of adventure.

"We get to go to Scarow!" He muttered with glee.

Any normal person ought to dread the news that their school would be taking its students on a weeklong trip to the most dangerous city in England. Jared certainly would have been very concerned if his secondary school had made this same statement. However, this was not going to be an ordinary journey to a different city. This would be work experience.

Ravenhead had given Class Junior a talk about the venture the Monday just after the Criminal Apprehension Exam. He had described it as a seven day work experience in the city of Scarow, where they would get the chance to watch real heroes doing their jobs, as well as assist them in facing crime, following the law and keeping the peace. There had also been several safety measures explained. None of the students were to travel outside of a group of eight or without a teacher, they were not to venture further than three blocks away from the wall, and they were not to approach any criminal figures without a teacher's approval. But the best part for Jared is that there would be activities provided for them. They would not simply be waiting around for a criminal to pop up. There would be training activities devised to teach the students more about hero work. Jared couldn't wait to get his first true taste of fighting real criminals, more than just a fake, safe test with real heroes pretending to be criminals.

There was however one large drawback for him. In order to go on the trip each student need the permission of their parents or guardians. That was when Jared's heart had sunk. His father would never let him go to Scarow. Whether it was out of concern for his safety or simply because he didn't want him to actually learn how to become a hero didn't matter so much. If Jackson Wreath learned about this experience he would never let Jared go. So Jared had made the only decision he could in this dire matter. He had decided not to tell him. He would have to tell his father something, else he would wonder where his son was for seven days. So he had told him that he would be spending the week at Maisie's house. His father had not been suspicious of that at all, though that may have been because he wasn't interested in his son's personal, safe, non-hero life. He would go to Maisie's first thing on the morning of November 23rd, and return home on the evening of November 29th, and his father would suspect nothing.

There were only another two weeks left till the trip, fourteen days. Jared could hardly contain his excitement.


	30. Interlude III

**Algernon Fitzroy**

* * *

It was a cold world that lay beyond the window. Condensation that had formed earlier in the day was now frozen into fat droplets upon the frosted pane, and from the top of the panel small icicles were starting to form. It was always cold at this window. It always had been, though it seemed that every window he had ever looked out through was cold.

A pair of pale blue eyes reflected off the glass. Through them was observed the exterior world beyond the window and the building it was attached to. A couple of metres below was a street. Upon that street were a row of large warehouse buildings. At the entrance to the building directly opposite the window were three police squad cars parked in a rush at the edge of the road. Several officers, dressed in riot armour and carrying various types of rifles and shotguns were approaching the warehouse, cautiously yet quickly.

A raid was occurring right outside his home.

He had seized up the moment he heard the sirens, and then when he saw the flashing lights approach he had very nearly panicked. This was not the first raid he had been in proximity off, but never before had he been this close to one. For a minute he had feared that they had come for him. An officer was approaching the door to the warehouse opposite, carrying under their arm a large, red battering ram. He had seen them used before. On the streets they had become known as 'Big Red Keys'. It didn't take long for the officer to unlock the door with it.

Algernon watched as the police poured into the building, weapons raised and shouting commands which could not be heard from behind the thick, frost covered glass. He slowly began to relax, releasing a long sigh as the tenseness of his muscles faded away. They were not here for him. He was safe for now, but how long would he stay so. Someone had to be onto them. They had to have left some sort of hint, some clue, some trail which someone smart had picked up on. There were too many clever, observant, determined individuals in the world right now. One of them had to be onto them.

Most cities tend to have an effect on the people who live in them, a sort of unobservable, long term psychological alteration to their psyche. The longer you live in such a city the more it becomes a part of you. In that respect, the effect that Scarow had on people was an unusual one. Those who lived behind the great wall were often driven, for one reason or another, to commit petty crime. For them it was as vital as breathing, as eating and as drinking. You could not survive a week in Scarow without resorting to something illegal. There were other cities in the world which had similar effects on its populace, but none of them had quite the effect that Scarow had. Criminals can be found anywhere, but nowhere has a higher rate of crime that the twin city that once made up the northern London district.

Algernon Fitzroy had spent his entire life in Scarow. He had never left, few ever had. The wall was very effective at keeping people in, and of course the heroes who patrolled it did a good job at this as well. Perhaps a part of Scarow's effect was created by them. The sensation of being permanently trapped, like a wild animal in a cage too small for it. Eventually something snaps. But unlike many who lived within the walls, Algernon did not want to leave. The first big reason was that he had nowhere else to go. What lay beyond those walls that was worth seeing? The world would treat him no differently out there. The second big reason was that his true calling in life, his purpose of being, required that he stay within the city. For he, Algernon Fitzroy, had a dream!

The police were now dragging out several individuals, cuffed and shoved towards the backseats of the cruisers. Most of them looked to be bunk types, tattoos across they face, dyed hair and facial piercings that must surely have been painful to receive. However one of them was well dressed in a smart suit and tie. This was not just some small-time criminal hideout then. They had stumbled upon a mob boss, and had somehow managed to take him alive. That was impressive. The stories suggested that usually the upper echelon of criminal would attempt to go out in a blaze of glory. Perhaps this one had chosen instead to come quietly. Then behind him another officer exited with a sniffer dog. In his arms were several clear bags of white powder.

A drug den… outside of his own home. How had he not realised?

This was a problem. Now the police would be focusing their attention on this area of the city. Anyone caught on this street would be stopped and questioned. For Algernon that was incredibly bad. If that happened his plan would be over. They did not appear to know of his location in the building just opposite, but he could not risk them finding out. He would have to contact the _others_.

From the pocket of his thick white coat it withdrew a phone, dialling a series of numbers into the soft number pad with gloved fingers. When the device began to ring he placed it to his naked, red ear he heard another voice crackled from the other end.

 _"Yo, Al, what up?"_ it asked.

"Geoff, we've got a situation here. Police are outside the building." He hated how his voice sounded as it echoed of the cold walls and frozen glass. It always sounded so frail and distant, far too much like himself.

The person on the other end of the call hissed, and silently cursed to themselves. _"Crap!_ _They after you?"_

"No. They're at the building next door, arresting a mob boss. The whole street will be shut down for a week at least."

 _"No easy getting in and out then?"_ The voice responded. A short pause, then they continued. _"I'll let the others know. Should I gather them?"_

"Don't bother them. They have jobs to do, we don't need to disturb them." Algernon paused, and the added "Though if you can, get in touch with Janus. Let him know he'll need to set up some doorways for us to get about unseen."

 _"Will do. What about Patch? I heard she made some leeway with her research."_

"Send her my way. I want to know what she's learned." Algernon inhaled, the icy mist within the room filling his lungs. They had never felt the warmth of hot summer air, and they never would. "Tell her to meet me here as soon as she can."

 _"On it. That all?"_

"For now." Algernon lowered the phone slightly, before lifting it back up to add "And be careful out there."

 _"You too, bud."_

The call ended.

Algernon closed the device. Outside the police cruisers were starting to drive away. A few officers had been left on site to continue searching the area and keep away any troublesome individuals. Algernon's fingers tightened around the cell phone.

"Bastards!" He muttered. "They had to make things tricky."

He stood up, knocking the frozen wooden chair over with force. The air around him was full of ice particles. He turned and exited the room, leaving behind the window and its many new icicles. Only as he left did the ice begin to melt, and as the fog cleared from the glass the autumn sun was allowed to shine through.

* * *

 **I'll start working on the first chapter for Act III at the beginning of the next month. I struggle to work in the heat, and these last few weeks have been nightmarish. Hopefully August will be a bit cooler, so working and creating quality work won't be so tough.**


	31. Chapter 26 - Enter Scarow

**Maisie Collard**

 _[November 23rd]_

* * *

She almost vomited. Her seat upon the bus, which happened to be stationed just above the back right wheel, was sharply thrown upwards as they passed over yet another speed bump. Maisie could feel her stomach push against her ribs and diaphragm and squeeze tight, caught between her organs and the push of gravity.

When she landed again all of the sensation and sickness that had been welling up sharply within her was just as sharply pushed back down. She lurched forward, groaning with her arms around her belly.

"You okay?" Jared asked from the seat beside her. Maisie glanced at him from the corner of her eye, not exactly feeling great but also not wanting to portray that too much. He smiled weakly back. "Don't worry. We can't be that far from the wall. Just hold it in."

Maisie sat up, still clutching her stomach. Outside of the long rectangular window the northern districts of Galafrei were rushing by, their vibrant shops, large houses and colourful neon signs a bright blare beyond the polished glass. Up until now every day had felt long and suspenseful. She had been waiting for this moment… the day their academy would take a weeklong trip to the twin city of Scarow.

She had wondered how she would feel on the day. Would she be excited? Would she be scared? Would she be adamant? She hadn't quite expect to feel, above everything else, a desperate urge to release her breakfast all over the back of the seat in front. She really had chosen the worst place to sit. Her body was not best suited for long trips in cramped vehicles. Today, with her blood full of adrenalin, her head swirling with excitement and anxiety and her stomach queasy with nerves, the rocking and shaking and lurching bus was unhinging the worst aspects of these feelings. She couldn't sit still, though the seat was largely at fault for that. It was at least a foot higher up than most of the others. But this was the best seat they could find. Jared had wanted to sit at the back, like most of the other boys. Why was that? What was it about the back seats that they liked so much? The very back seats had already been taken by Jason, Phillip, George and Jean, so she and Jared had been forced to compromise.

"Could you move your legs, Jared." She asked after taking a moment to swallow down what remained of her upheaving stomach. "It's cramped."

"Sure." Jared said, sharply sliding his legs away from her and letting them hang out of the row. Across from him sat Aaren, who didn't look much more comfortable than them, and next to her was Barbara Faraday, whose punk jacket would scratching Aaren's bare arms every time she moved. He gave her a small smile. Aaren smiled back, and then quickly looked forwards, away from him. "It's been an hour already. We should be there soon." He muttered, adding to the statement he had made to Maisie a few moments before.

There had been a lot of discussion amongst the class as to who would go on the trip and what they would do while in Scarow. The teachers had been keeping the latter subject a secret until the day they got there, only clarifying on things that involved allergies, disabilities and possible health hazards. The actual activities were unknown. It was suggested that perhaps the students who had not passed the Criminal Apprehension Exam would not be allowed to go on the trip, which then sparked up the question of who had failed the exam, as this had not yet been revealed. Now that the fated day had arrived it seemed that every student from both classes was going. Did that then mean that everyone had passed, or that everyone was allowed and able to go? The latter prospect didn't quite comfort Maisie's fear that she had failed the exam. She hadn't done as much as she wished she could. Surely she had done the least out of everyone in her team, possibly out of everyone at the academy. Jared had tried to reassure her several times already, but she couldn't believe him. No, surely she couldn't have passed.

In terms of capability to go on the trip to Scarow, Maisie was good in all areas but one. Her parents would never have let her go. So to make sure that she was able to go she had made up a story about a weeklong trip to the Hero Movement HQ in Newerth. The story was essentially the same as what was actually going to happen, with the only real difference being the location. While her father had been concerned and uncertain, he had ultimately agreed to let her go, and had signed the legal form which the academy had supplied her. Maisie had made sure to carefully cover the word 'Scarow' when showing it to him. Apparently Jared had done something similar with his father, only he had spun a story about staying at her house for several days. Apparently his father would be more willing to allow this over anything involving hero work. Maisie was slightly worried about what might happen if their parents asked each other about where their children were, but according to Jared his father very rarely spoke with anyone who he did not work with, including his own children, so the chances of them realising that their stories didn't add up were low.

Her seat shook as it was kicked from behind. A head leaned over.

"Carsick?" Tate asked, his face upside down as his neck stretched past the headrest.

"A little." Maisie said quietly.

"I get that way sometimes, too." He admitted with a shrewd smile.

"No you don't!" Mitchell scoffed.

"I do!" Tate argued, turning back to glare at his quirk sibling. "Remember that time we went to Camber Sands with mum and I threw up all over the back of her seat."

"Lovely." Jared muttered with disgust.

"You coughed." Mitchell stated. "That's not the same as throwing up."

"I _nearly_ threw up!"

Tate was sharply pulled back into his seat by Mitchell's ethereal hand. The chair rocked. There was the sound of mild roughhousing from behind their row of chairs, and it was tough for either Jared or Maisie to tell who was winning. Mitchell's leg passed through the back of Jared's seat and struck him in the side of the head.

"Ow!" He exclaimed. "Hey, stop it already!"

The fighting died down after a moment. Sometimes the twins could get like this. Most people with quirks like that usually got along well with whatever identity their quirk took on, but Tate and Mitchell Anderson were apparently unique. The two of them behaved like real siblings, in that they fought over petty, ridiculous things all the time, often with little provocation.

"When do we get there?" Tate complained in irritation, now having returned to his seat and shuffled away from his brother.

"Probably in another ten minutes or so." Jared told him honestly, not at all keen to speak with either of the twins considering their most recent antics.

His seat began lurching as Tate kicked it repeatedly. "God, could this get more annoying."

"I don't know." Jared muttered coldly. "Shall we swap seats and find out?"

"What are you guys doing back there?" asked the voice of Payton Moon, who until then had been sat on the seat in front of Jared completely alone. Apparently he wanted the extra space so that he could stretch his wings.

"Andersons." Jared told him simply.

"Oh." Payton said, immediately understand. "Oi, nitwits, stop kicking the seats! You're annoying everyone."

"No we aren't." Tate snapped back.

"Yes you are." Barbara joined in. She had been attempting to block out the argument with a pair of black and silver headphones, but apparently even the blaringly loud rock music she always listened too was not loud enough to deafen the sounds of Tate and Mitchell Anderson.

Tate turned on her now. "Shut up! You're wearing headphones!"

"And I can still hear you!" She retorted with just as much distaste. "Seeing the issue here?"

Tate, unable to come up with a witty retort to cast upon her, instead decided to turn away and act as if he was the victim in this scenario.

"You guys are assholes sometimes." He muttered. "I wasn't doing that much."

"Jeez." Jared muttered, exhaling and leaning back into his chair in a weak attempt to relax once more. "One hour gone, god known how much longer left."

"What do you think we'll do in Scarow?" Maisie asked as that section of the bus began to quiet down once more.

"Nothing too dangerous, I expect." He reassured her. "Most likely we'll be watching heroes doing their jobs, possibly helping out with small things, observing the city, maybe some training stuff…"

"Think we'll get to hunt a real criminal?" Tate supposed. His sudden intrusion upon the conversation made Jared's teeth clench.

"Hope so." Jared whispered, just quiet enough so that Tate didn't hear him He would rather avoid stoking the flames of his idiocy. Maisie witnessed a glimmer of eager excitement cross her friend's fate at the idea of doing real hero work. It always impressed her how determined he could be, how hungry he was for experience. She had never felt that way, no matter how hard she tried to. All she felt was continuous, unconquerable anxiety.

"I wouldn't get too excited." Aaren joined in from the seat opposite. "Even if we do get to face real criminals, chances are they won't let us do much. At most we'll probably be tracking them or helping transport them to cells or aiding any heroes who are fighting them. We probably won't be made to face any dangerous ones."

"Nah." Mitchell stated, shaking his head in disagreement. "Of course they'd give us the dangerous ones. We fought those criminals in the exam after all, they were pretty nasty."

"They weren't real criminals." Aaren reminded him. "They were actors, heroes playing the role of villains. They had rules to follow. Real criminals won't follow any rules."

"That doesn't matter." Tate joined in, agreeing with his ethereal twin. "We can fight them. Mitchell and I know what we're doing. No criminal stands a chance against us and our ability to work as a team."

"You two were just fighting with each other." Payton said from two seats in front.

"That wasn't anything serious, that was just a joke." Tate argued.

"And, just like the rest of your 'jokes', you took it a few steps too far." Aaren said quietly.

Tate gave her a shifty look. "You're jealous that you don't have a super awesome twin who knows everything you're thinking and can fight any opponent we face with little trouble." He stated with an ego as large as the moon.

"You say that, but from what I've heard you were both pretty useless during the recent exam…" Jared interrupted. "And I nearly beat you by myself once before, remember? I don't even have a quirk, so how do you expect to fight a hardened criminal by yourselves?"

The Anderson Twins gave him an annoyed glare, though it took them a while to retort to his comments.

"Yeah… well…" Tate muttered. "…you got lucky! Mitchell and I have been training since then."

"I heard you had to rely on Jon and Freya during the Crim-Ap Exam." Barbara joined in, leaning across Aaren to mock the Anderson brothers. "You basically acted as Freya's chauffeur for the majority of the fight."

Tate's cheeks turned an impressive scarlet colour. "I didn't want to do that!" He argued back. "She forced me to carry her!"

"Did she force you to grope her as well?" Aaren probed with the witty finger of a master rumour spreader.

The expression which formed upon Tate's face was impressive to witness. Until that moment Maisie had not known that a human could turn such a colour. Never before had any of them seen Tate look so mortified.

"How do you…?" He began to stutter. Then he saw the stares they were giving him, and to his horror realised that answering with just those three words had confirmed that it was true. "I didn't… I wasn't trying to…" He turned away sharply, hiding his face from them. Mitchell looked at him, and then sharply turned his gaze back to the staring teenagers.

"Leave us alone already." He muttered, shuffling in his seat so that he moved a little closer to the now huddled Tate.

"You started this conversation." Aaren muttered unkindly. The seven of them went back to quietly sitting and waiting, as the bus continued to drive on.

Only a few seconds after the debate did Jared speak up. "Who would've thought that?" He muttered, leaning close to Maisie that only she could hear him. "Turns out there are some thing that Tate regrets doing.

He gave her a knowing wink, but Maisie wasn't sure what it was she was supposed to know. Had he been suggesting something and she had just not been smart enough to pick up on it? She hated that, not noticing social cues. It happened all the time. Subtle suggestions and body language passed completely over her head. She wasn't even completely sure what it was that had upset Tate. Something about Freya and groping? She knew that the girls would chat with each other by themselves, usually about their classes or their personal lives, but sometimes about the other girls if they weren't present… or the boys. Perhaps Freya understood what they meant, perhaps she had even told them and perhaps that was why they were bringing it up. She didn't understand how to understand such manners of communication. Sometimes it kept her away at night, wondering if secretly the people around her were mocking her and she just couldn't tell.

There was a cheer from the front of the bus. It drew her attention like a firework. A shadow passed by the window. She looked outside. They had just entered a large stone tunnel, with many signs upon the wall and several figures in dark green uniforms walking back and forth at its edge.

"We're at the wall!" Jared stated. He was shuddering.

"Are you cold?" Maisie asked.

He looked at her. "No." He said, surprised. "I'm just… excited!" He hissed through his teeth, his eyes agleam. "This will be the first time I step outside of Galafrei!" He rubbed his hands eagerly. "Our weak long trip has just begun!"

Maisie was also excited. She wished that she could expressed that excitement in the same way that he could, but she just couldn't find the words. If she tried to express it in a way that felt natural she would have just gotten confused looks from the others. So instead she sat there, arms folded around her stomach, looking at the seat in front of her and rocking nervously.

Then the bus began to slow to a quick but gentle stop.

"What's going on?" She asked, looking around in confusion.

"Dunno." Jared muttered back.

They looked through the window. Outside Maisie could see several of the green clad figures approaching the vehicle, guns hanging from their shoulders upon leather straps. One of them knocked on the glass door, and then he and another of the men entered the vehicle.

"Soldiers." Jared realised. "This is probably just a routine check. You know, to make sure we are who we say we are."

Maisie barely heard what he said. She was focusing her attention solely upon the soldiers, and the weapons they carried. Maisie had never seen a gun before, not up close and being held. It made his skin shiver. She couldn't stop think about the noise that would occur if one of those weapons were to go off.

The two soldiers who had boarded the vehicle were talking with the driver and the teachers, who were all stationed at its front. She couldn't quite hear what was being said from where she sat, but the two men seemed very stern and humourless. They had expressions of hardened stone and voices that reminded her of her dad when he was very, very angry. They said something about papers. Ravenhead presented a series of sheets to one the man. Maisie could just faintly make out the photographs of Tate and Mitchell Anderson on the top sheet. The closest soldier took them and began skimming over each sheet with rapidly moving eyes. Then he looked up. For a stomach churning moment his eyes met with Maisie's. She quickly shrunk back into her seat. She was starting to feel scared. Why were these men interested in them? They hadn't done anything wrong.

"Are you okay?" Jared asked her. Now it was his turn to be concerned. She said neither yes nor no. She couldn't lie to him, but she was also too afraid to be honest. She was a good girl. She had done nothing wrong. She didn't need to be afraid of the soldiers. But she was. She gripped the arms of her seat with clawing fingers.

One of the soldiers was now walking down the aisle, looking at each student and teacher in turn, examining their faces and comparing them with the photographs upon the paper. Maisie shrank further into her seat, her fingers burying themselves in the soft texture of the chair. She didn't want this. She wasn't planning to do anything bad, they didn't need to be suspicious of her. She didn't want this!

Suddenly she felt her hand being squeezed. She turned sharply to her left… to see Jared's fingers curling around hers. He could tell that she was nervous and scared, and wordlessly he had given her his support. Maisie looked at him, and though he said nothing she could see the concern and comfort in his stare. She took his hand and gripped it even tighter. She didn't have to feel afraid when she was with him. He wouldn't let her be afraid.

The soldier passed by their seats, his eyes turned down towards the two teenagers. He stopped beside Jared's leg, turning his body fully towards them. Maisie was looking down, not wanting to meet his gaze. She would wait for him to do his job and go away. She wouldn't do anything to make him suspicious.

"Look up please, miss." The soldier suddenly stated in a gruff, stern, demanding voice.

Maisie's body stiffened, turning her into a pale statue. The man had just acknowledged her verbally. She didn't know what to do. Her skin shivered. Her muscles clenched. She couldn't move. She didn't want to move. What could she do? Fear consumed her like a plague of locusts.

The soldier was growing suspicious. He shifted ever so slightly closer. Maisie could see him leaning towards her across the seat. His shadow covered Jared and reached across her legs. But she couldn't move. She couldn't do as he had asked. She felt so scared.

Jared's fingers grew slightly tighter around her arm, and amongst the muscle-clenching terror she felt a slow warmth of comfort. His grip was soothing, encouraging. Though the rest of the world seemed so cold right now, his heat was shining through. It made her feel capable once more. She could be like him, if only for a moment.

Slowly she turned her head and looked up at the soldier. Such a tall man, packing muscles the size of footballs. His suspicious, judging glare was upon her, a shadow cast by the overhead lighting covering every detail on his face. His eyes shone through that shadow like lighthouse lamps through deep fog, yet they were nowhere near as comforting or relaxing Looking into them made her feel sick, more so than the bus ride ever could have. The way he was staring at her made her feel guilty. It didn't matter what she was guilty of, that stare made every action she had ever taken in her life feel criminal. Under the gaze of such a man, Maisie felt as if she was the worst human being alive.

The soldier leaned back once more, and slowly lowered his eyes to one of the papers he had been provided with. Then, as if the last few seconds had not occurred, he turned around and walked away from them, moving further down the aisle.

Maisie almost fainted. She had never felt so tense before. Blood rushed back into her brain like a red tsunami, and every breath of air afterwards felt like breathing in freedom. That soldier's gaze had made her feel like a prisoner within her own body. She never wanted to experience that again.

"You okay?" Jared asked her with concern. He was always asking if she was okay. Sometimes Maisie wondered if it was something she was doing that worried him.

The soldier came back down the aisle a few seconds later, but this time he didn't look at any of the students. He treated them as if they didn't exist. Maisie was both glad and concerned. She didn't want to experience such a stare again, but was his refusal to even look at them mean that they were in trouble? She couldn't tell what people were thinking, and in a situation like this it made her feel unbearably anxious. Finally the two soldiers left the bus, returning to their group waiting by the wall of the tunnel. The bus began to kick back into live with a small shudder, and then they were moving slowly forwards once more. Maisie finally felt calm again. He let go of Jared's hand.

"What was that about then?" Tate said with voice of bafflement.

"Probably a routine inspection." Aaren reasoned. "We are entering Scarow, after all. They probably have to check to make sure we aren't criminals or troublemakers."

"Why would criminals or troublemakers want to _enter_ Scarow?" Tate argued with her. "Usually they're trying to leave."

No one had a proper answer for him. Though they could probably make up a few possible reasons, none of them wanted to speculate on the matter. They were entering Scarow for education reasons, and they would be escorted and watched by trained heroes at all times. None of them would have dared set foot within the wall by themselves.

Up ahead they could see a large metal gate, at least five metres thick and probably several hundred tonnes in weight. One of the famous wall gates, designed specifically to stop any brave idiots or madmen from entering either of the cities by foot. No man alive could move such an obstacle by hand. The locks and hinges which kept them in place were designed to seize up if opened any way other than the right way. Explosives wouldn't so much as dent them. Add several well trained, observant and suspicious soldiers to guard each one and you had a doorway that no one on planet earth would dare to open. It was easier to climb the wall than it was to walk through one of its gates, which was usually why most who tried to pass it attempted to climb it instead.

Floodlights filled the tunnel ahead, illuminating both the road and the gate. Around eight soldiers were ahead of them, stood in front of the gate with their weapons in hand. They did not raise them as the bus arrived, though two of them did approach the door and wait to be let on. Maisie began to feel the panic returning. Where they about to inspect the bus as well? Fortunately they didn't step inside the vehicle. This time it was Madam who spoke with them, leaning out of her seat behind the door to introduce herself. She had a quick natter with the two soldiers before they decided that all was well and stepped away from the vehicle. One of them waved the driver forwards, while the second put his fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Seconds later the gate began to open up, its heavy metal doors swinging slowly open.

"Open sesame!" She heard Ravenhead state from the front of the bus. "That was the tough part. Now comes the fun part."

Maisie hoped that was true. Considering the emotional stress she had suffered thanks to that one soldier, she didn't think she could manage anything worse.

* * *

 **I've decided to keep this chapter short since it's the first for the new arc. Hopefully it isn't boring in its shortness. Also, starting of this chapter, I will be adding the date at which the chapter is set, though the year will not be included. I'm doing this to make the continuity a little easier to follow, as some chapters will be set at different dates to those before or after them. I don't know if I'll do this for every chapter, but certainly for the ones where this is necessary. I'll try and get the next chapter up before the end of the month. If I can at least get two chapters out each month it will be an improvement for me.**


	32. Chapter 27 - A Walk Along the Wall

**Jared Wreath**

 _[November 23rd]_

* * *

This was Scarow, the northern of the twin cities that had once been known as London. Before entering its walls he knew nothing about the place other than what he had been told, either by news reports or by his father and other heroes who had been there. People always made it out to be a sort of hell on earth; buildings constantly aflame, streets amess with rioting and fighting, criminals in every shadow, plots in every mind. It had sounded like a place without law or conscience. That was partially why he had been excited to see the city for himself, just to see how bad it all was.

Now that he was here, Jared was a little surprised. The actual city of Scarow was not quite as bad as he had thought. There were no continuous riots or fights filling up every street. There were people out and about certainly, but from the momentary glances he caught of them as the bus passed by they didn't seem so different to the people of Galafrei. They didn't look like dangerous criminals. They looked like ordinary people. The buildings were not constantly aflame as he had heard. Only one house he spotted was one fire, though that was because of a small patch of garbage someone had lit by their front door and was quickly extinguished by a couple of people carrying buckets of water. That was certainly not something he had ever seen in Galafrei before. Many of the buildings were showing minor signs of external damage, such as cracks upon brickwork or windows with corners smashed by thrown stones. Very few showed any serious decay or damage. One building they passed was little more than rubble and a few shattered walls. Most of what it had once been was now dust and brick on the pavement. A couple of young kids were exploring it, possibly looking for buried treasure, as kids are prone to do.

He had to wonder what it was that made people so scared of this place. At first glance it didn't seem like much more than a rather poor, run down district, not especially unlike some of the poorer areas of Galafrei. But he had only been there for a few minutes. He had not walked the streets or spoken with the people or witnessed the crimes that took place here. There was probably a very good reason as to why so many people hated this city. There was always a reason to why people did anything, though that wasn't guarantee that it was a good or logical reason.

The bus was now coming to a stop. Outside Jared and the other students could see a large, three storey building made of white stone with red bricks detailing the corners. It had a front door made of clear, well-polished glass that slid open when a person stood on the mat lying both upon the internal and external side of it. An archway created shade for the front of the building, with vines winding their way up the pillars. Hanging from the front of the archway was a sign made of glowing purple litters, spelling out the words _'TIVOLY SOUTHGATE YOUTH_ HOSTEL'. The first floor had large windows which allowed a very visible look at the interior. The windows on the upper two levels were smaller and square in shape, some with small metal balconies extended under them.

"We're here." Maisie whispered. She looked away from the window and at him. She was trying to look excited but sadly Maisie had never been especially good at pretending.

"Anxious?" He asked.

She nodded after a few seconds, looking a bit disappointed in herself.

"That's okay. This will go fine." He tried to encourage her.

"I've been thinking…" Maisie muttered, "what if our parents find out that we're here… that we lied to them."

Jared had also considered this, but truthfully he didn't care if his father found out. This was something he was doing for himself, not for him. Maisie's situation was a little different to his though, so he understood her concern. She was not as eager as he was to jump into the role of being a hero. She had been excited to take part in this experience, though she hadn't been free of fear about it. The greatest of her fears seemed to be about what her parents would do to her _when_ they found out. Jared wasn't sure how to help her in that respect, so instead he had helped find a way to make sure that their chances of finding out were decreased, essentially turning the _when_ into an _if_. He had come up with the plan to tell them that she was taking a trip with the academy – which was true – to visit the Hero Movement HQ – which was not quite so true. Then they would at least have an idea of where she was and wouldn't become worried about whether her friends were getting her into trouble. Maisie had told him that they had been concerned by that before. Though he wouldn't openly admit it to her, he would rather have her coddling, overprotective parents than his absent, indifferent father. At least the Collards cared about their daughter, perhaps too much but at least it was obvious. Jared hardly ever knew what his father was feeling or thinking. His face was always so flat and his voice always so calm and emotionless. That was why Jared wasn't concerned about his father finding out. He couldn't imagine his father every being worried about him.

"Alright everyone…" Madam announced loudly from the front of the bus. She was drabbed in an elegant and overly flashy salmon coloured suit. She looked out of place against the backdrop of the mostly grey coloured city. "We've arrived!" She turned around ninety degrees and gestured her arms to the now opening bus doors. "Please exit the vehicle in an orderly fashion, no pushing or shoving please. Once outside please stand in a line upon the pavement near the bus and wait for your luggage to be brought to you.

"Let's get going then." Jared said in an attempt to encourage her. "Can't hold it off any more. We've gotta take the dive."

He gave her a hopeful smile but she did not return it. Maisie was always a little slow and uncertain about returning expressions or gestures, but right now it seemed as if she was unfocused. She was more nervous than he had thought then. Perhaps the trip had gotten to her a little. That guard had been a bit intimidating. She hadn't spoken much since then, not that she spoke a lot usually. So instead of a smile he offered her his hand. She looked at it uncertainly. Then she took it.

Helping her onto her feet, the two of them stood up and slid out from between their seats and the two in front. Aaren stepped out behind Jared, giving him a small glance as he passed her. He wasn't sure what it had meant, but knowing Aaren it was would mean something that she probably didn't want to repeat.

They stepped off the bus and onto the wide pavement outside of the building, where most of the other students were already waiting. The bus driver was currently attempting to fold away an attachable ramp which had been needed to let Freya out of the vehicle. She had been sat at the front of the vehicle for obvious reasons, and as a result had been the first person to depart. Jon had also been sat at the front, not because he had no choice but to do so but because, in his own words 'It means I don't have to drag these heavy bastards up and down a narrow aisle just to enter and exit a vehicle'. He was stood close to the bus, standing beside Freya and Niall, while the final students exited the vehicle and their teachers began extruding a series of bags and suitcases of varying size and shape. Jared and Maisie joined them.

"This is all very exciting, isn't it?" Freya stated in her chipper voice.

"I'm not sure what I was expecting…" Jon said more to himself than the others, "…but Scarow isn't quite what I imagined."

"No, me neither." Jared agreed.

"I was expecting a need for armed escorts." Freya said in a lower voice.

"We probably shouldn't be expecting that." Jon said. "If that's the state that a city's in you shouldn't go there. You should turn around and go back home instead."

"To late now." Jared joked. "We're already inside the wall."

"We haven't gone very far from it though." Payton stated as he joined the group. He pointed over the buildings at the still visible metal structure. It was barely ten blocks away, almost as visible as it had been when they passing through it.

"Why are we so close do you think?" Freya pondered.

"Safety reasons." Jon explained. "There will be more heroes around here. They patrol the walls so most likely the safest areas of the city are close to it."

"And yet we constantly have issues with people trying to climb it." Jared contended. "It can't be all that safe then, not all of the time."

"Nowhere is safe _all_ of the time." Jon reasoned.

"Less safe than most places then." Said Jared in an attempt to keep his side of the argument valid.

"It's just a wall" spoke up Niall Archer. His gaze was fixed solidly upon the high, sturdy line of metal and concrete outlining the city. "It's not that special."

 _'Maybe not…'_ Jared thought in the privacy of his own mind, _'…but clearly it means something to some people.'_

The teachers were now bringing the different pieces of luggage across to the students in clusters that they could carry in their arms. Aaren had reached the group of friends by this point, but she didn't get the chance to join in the conversation. Madam, who had done little carrying work herself, was about to start speaking to them again.

"Once you have collected your luggage, please proceed inside the building and wait in the main hall. Anyone who wonders off will not be allowed to take part in this evening's activities."

That was a threat that was both blunt and sharp at the same time. On the one hand no one quite knew what they would be doing that evening as the activities had not yet been discussed with them, on the other none of them wanted to risk missing out on something very exciting.

Jared found his suitcase after only a few seconds of looking through the pile. A large, black rectangle attached to two worn wheels and a metal handle. Inside he had packed only the essential stuff; two sets of clothes similar to the ones he was currently wearing, a raincoat, his sports clothes and shoes, a hat in case it got sunny, several spare changes of underwear – for the possibility of experiencing a completely natural yet horrifically embarrassing _accident_ – pyjamas, socks, a phone charger and, because he thought it would be a good idea, two packs of mint humbug sweets. The others had all packed the same sort of stuff. The teachers had advised they take extra clothing for changing into just in case their current clothes got dirty, rain proof clothing for those late autumn showers, clothing which they would be happy wearing while exercising and clothing which they were comfortable sleeping it. It had been clarified very clearly that they were not to bring anything they might be afraid of losing, so that meant to belongings of personal value or little use during their activities. Payton had wanted to bring along his gaming laptop to use while at the hostel, but after a long discussion with Aries about the realism of taking such an expensive item into the most dangerous city in England he suddenly changed his mind.

With their bags and suitcases now collected, the students of BHA entered into the hostel. The lobby was very colourful, more so than the exterior. It wasn't sickeningly colourful as some places in Galafrei could be; the walls were a simple but vibrant light blue, while the roof was white and the floors made of a shining, slippery grey marble. A desk at the right side of the room was made from polished elm wood, with several pot plants sat at its corners adding a nice, natural look to the room. Two large openings sat at the other end of the hall, and directly opposite the door was a stairway which wound around a wheelchair lift. A couple of benches made of oak sat by the walls, and a few chairs beside them with plastic seats. Instantly the teenagers began grabbing the seats and relaxing. The older students chuckled at them, exchanging a seat on a bus for a seat in a lobby. The younger generation did nothing but sit around.

While Madam was at the counter discussing arrangements with the staff, the other teachers took it upon themselves to start explaining the schedule for the next seven days.

"Okay everyone…" Ravenhead announced, his squawking voice loud within the thick walls and wide hallway. "…first thing's first, let's discuss the activities that will be taking place while we're here. While we expect you all to take part in these assignments, there are some which you may not feel comfortable in taking, and if that is the case just tell one of us and we can arrange for either you to either sit out or take on a different, more appropriate job instead. Bear in mind that we are not stupid and will not just let you sit out because you want to. We should also clear that during each and every activity taking place this week one of us will be present with each group of students, to make sure that you are all accounted for, doing what you are tasked to do and not wondering into places you are not supposed be and getting into trouble. In extension were are there to support you, and if you require our attention for whatever reason do not hesitate to come find one of us, whether it be during an activity or here at Tivoly Southgate Youth Hostel. We are not just your carers, we are you teachers, and we will do the best to assist you in any way necessary."

The other heroes playing the role of teachers nodded in agreement. Most of them were there, Aries and Dubstep to Ravenhead's left, and Cyanide and Silver Streak to his right. The only member of the teaching staff that had not come with them to Scarow was Dr Cutter. He had other matters to deal with on the other side of the wall, something about a medical situation that needed his help. It was possible he would show up towards the end of the week, so until then the students would probably have to avoid getting seriously hurt. Hopefully they wouldn't be doing anything that put them at that sort of a risk… but then again some of the students were hopeful that they would.

"Now, the assignments themselves." Continued the avian hero. "Since we've only just arrived we won't be expecting you to take part in any activities today. Starting tomorrow you will be taking part in two separate activities; three hours of training inside a gymnasium built for hero use, and three hours of patrolling the streets within the Tivoly District with use and several members of the police. These classes with start at ten PM, with Class Junior using the gym first and Class Senior taking patrol at the same time. Both groups will switch around at two after an hour for lunch."

"Sounds pretty fun." Jared murmured under quietly in Maisie's ear. "A hero's gymnasium must be pretty awesome, considering the kind of people who use it."

"On Wednesday…" Ravenhead continued, "We've been able to secure an interesting experiment for you all. We managed to convince a few high ranking heroes to come and talk with you. Essentially they will be discussing the kind of work they do, describing experiences they've had as heroes, offering advice about studies and hero jobs you could take, and after the discussion you'll be given a chance to observe them during doing what they do best… hunting criminals and keeping the peace." He paused to quickly check a short paper list. "The heroes who will be available for this activity include; Number 25 Hero: Scout, Number 16 Hero: Blindsight, Number 52 Hero: Baroque, Number 45 Hero: Guy Fawkes, Number 34 Hero: Rêveuse and, very surprisingly… Number 2 Hero: Supermassive."

Jared saw Jon, who was stood to his left, sharply loose the colour in his face. He turned around slowly. Jared and Payton were both grinning at him.

"Don't embarrass me, please." He begged quietly.

"We can't promise that." Payton whispered back. "I would normally kill to meet a man like him. Fortunately I don't have to. Couldn't imagine a better surprise."

Jared nodded in agreement. Being the second most popular hero in Britain, Supermassive was beloved and adored by many people all across Great Britain, almost as much as the Progenitor himself, Jared's father. While Jared couldn't understand why anyone loved him father so much, he could understand what it was they liked about Supermassive. The Progenitor always came off as emotionless and aloof, even his fans could recognise that, though that was partially why they liked him. Contrarily, Supermassive was very upbeat and friendly. He seemed to wear his heart on his sleeves, often giving emotional support as well as physical, taking time out of his day to cheer up a crying child, risking his own life against the worst kind of criminals just to save one person. He was what Jared deemed to be a true hero. He was the kind of hero that he wanted to be. Someone the people could trust. Someone they could believe in. Someone who would do everything he could to protect them. Jared had learned all of this from the many comic editions following the hero that were stocked upon the bookshelf in his bedroom. Perhaps they exaggerated the truth a bit, but that didn't matter much. The truth was probably not that different.

Ravenhead had put away the list once more. By that point Jared's train of thought had pulled back into the station of attention, and he was focusing on the teacher and his words again.

"On Thursday we will be allowing you to take part in series of small fighting matches amongst yourselves. It won't be anything as big or important as the Combat or CA exam, so you needn't worry about being graded on your performance. We will simply be offering you further training on how to fight with the assistance of experience instructors. Don't get too excited! If anyone attempts anything dangerous you'll be pulled out of the session immediately and forced to sit out for the rest of the day."

Though Jared couldn't see them from behind him, he could hear the Anderson's chuckling quietly to themselves. This activity sounded a lot like the Combat exam, though at least they wouldn't be graded for their performance or allowed to hurt each other too much. He still had bruises from his fight with the twin that day. His nose had never felt right since. It always seemed slightly askew and flattened. Occasionally it would ache, often when the weather was wet or cold. Cutter had made sure that it was set back into place, but perhaps it had not healed properly. He supposed he would have it live with it. If cutter couldn't completely fix it then no one could. It was his first scar. It made him feel more like a man now.

"Friday and Saturday you will all be split up into groups and assigned to one of us in order to take part in a series of 'Crime Hunts'," quoth the raved. "The other teachers and I will pick out several small, manageable cases in the morning for our groups to complete together. What you will end up doing will depend upon what is available on the day, but rest assured we will not assign you to anything we do not think you can manage."

This ought to be the part of their seven day experience that was the most exciting, certainly it was the part Jared was most excited for. A chance to hunt down and arrest some real criminals. It didn't matter to him if they were the especially dangerous kind or simply petty thieves. He wanted the chance to prove himself, and that would be the best time to do so.

"Finally, on Sunday…" the teacher paused to give the thirty four students of Broadhurst Heroism Academy a humorous and light-hearted smile, "… you pack up again, get your asses on the bus and go home. Hopefully we'll still have all of you with us by then, not lost any of you to the alleys and the crowds. We'll be leaving at ten in the morning, so make sure you have everything. Don't leave anything behind unless you really don't mind if it gets stolen."

Madam had just finished her long discussion with the staff at the counter, and she swiftly intercepted Ravenhead's sentence before he could properly finish.

"Right, if that's everything explained, you'd best all find your rooms and unpack. Niko, you take care of the gents, Lorraine, you look after the ladies." Dubstep and Cyanide nodded obediently.

"Alright lads, follow me." Stated the hero named after a genre of music, giving an encouraging hand gesture.

"I'll catch up with you later." Jared whispered to Maisie as he and the other boys began to move.

"Okay." She whispered back. For a moment he thought that she would grab for his hand again.

The male students from bother the Junior and Senior classes were escorted by the Russian hero across the room and up the spiralling staircase. The girls followed behind them, though they had to wait in order to help Freya into the lift and send her up ahead. They dragged their luggage up the twisting stairs, the echoing bangs of suitcases hitting each step filling their ears as the ascended. Upon reaching the second floor the Russian hero lead them off the stairs and down a narrow corridor. Several dark wood doors connected into other rooms, some of which were open. Jared could see blue coloured walls and wooden bunkbeds beyond them. In some of them cleaners were organising sheets and rearranging pillows and mattresses and cleaning up leftover litter. Some of the cleaners were rushing up and down the corridor, entering and exiting from rooms either to take or deliver laundry. The group didn't stop walking till they reached the far end of the corridor. There Dubstep stopped and performed a sharp one-eighty turn.

"These are your rooms." He stated, extending both arms outward to point at the two doors to his right and left. "Juniors have the left, Seniors have the right."

There was a half-second of pause, before Jared realised that he was stood at the front of the group, and thusly they were all expecting him to now open the door. It flustered him a little, he had thought Dubstep would be the one to do this, but his lack of a following action only clarified why everyone was waiting. Aware that the eyes of his friends and classmates were all on him, Jared stepped forward, grabbed the golden door handle, twisted, and pushed it open.

The teenage boys all piled into the room, shoving Jared ahead of them. He barely had a chance to breath before he felt them pushing against him. The twelve of them looked around the room. It was large and rectangular, with blue walls and bunkbeds just like the rooms they had seen in the previous open doorways. There was also a large rectangular window looking out at the city ahead of them. They could see rooves above and streets bellow, see the sun reaching midday within the sky. A set of dark blue curtains sat at each end of the window, neatly folded up around small silver hooks. Three small, green, plastic bins were placed in the corner of each room, with the only corned absent being the one by the door. A couple of tall pot plants sat by the window, adding a slight natural smell and look to the room. It certainly looked like a large enough room to house twelve teenage boys for a week, but considering who some of those boys were Jared had to wonder if it would actually be able to contain them.

"Ve'll be expecting you all to be up by eight o'clock each day, fully dressed, showered and vell rested." Dubstep instructed from the open doorway. "Breakfast vill start at eight thirty and end at ten, so if you don't vant to be hungry all day don't be late. Ve'll be arranging lunches for you each day, and dinner vill be provided between six and eight in the evening. If, for vhatever reason, our activities extend over this time ve vill do what ve can to provide you vith a meal once ve return. Lights out at ten PM every night, you must all be asleep by then. Anyone found out of bed or valking the corridors past that time vill be penalised and excluded from the next day's activities. No partying, no drinking, even if you are of legal age, no raised voices, no shouting, and no sharing of beds. Once you pick a bunk you stick to it, two per bunk; one top, one bottom."

A small snigger from George Asher.

"Yes, very funny." Dubstep said humorously. "Also, one final varning to issue. I understand how it can be at your age, but you are not to sneak into any of the girl's room no matter what time of day, regardless of vhether they invite you or not. No funny business, understand?"

Another quieter snigger from a group of mouths.

"Good." Dubstep folded his arms. "I'll leave you boys to pick bunks and start unpacking. I'd advise you don't bunk up with someone you dislike, it'll only make life painful for you. Stop laughing, George!"

"Sorry, sir." Muttered George Asher.

With a second momentary glance at them, Dubstep turned and walked across the corridor and into the senior student's dormitory. Now they were alone; twelve teenage boys, six bunk beds and seven days away from their parents. Already a mischievous atmosphere was picking up.

"I get top bunk!" Mitchell declared.

"You don't get any bunk. You'll just fall through it in the middle of the night." Tate reminded him.

"I won't." Mitchell retorted.

"Why do you even want a bunk? You don't sleep." Tate asked.

"It makes me feel like a real boy." Mitchell responded, protruding his lips in a sad expression.

"You know, Tate, I was wondering about something…" Payton said with a voice that dribbled curiosity. "When you are asleep does Mitchell just have to stay awake all night and wait for you to wake up again?"

Tate looked surprised. "Oh, no." He said enthusiastically. "No, when I'm asleep Mitchell just sort of… stops being, until I wake up again of course."

"You mean he… stops existing?" Niall said.

"Yeah." Mitchell told them, sounding annoyed by the prospect. "It's kind of like blinking. One moment it's night and I'm waiting for Tate to fall asleep, next it's morning and he's waking up."

"He only exists when I'm conscious." Tate explained. "He is a quirk after all, not a person."

"Thanks, bro." Mitchell muttered coldly.

"So then... wouldn't that make Mitchell something like an… astral projection?" Payton tried to understand.

"I don't know." Tate scoffed. "Do I look like a scientist?"

Most of the boys could think of a few things that Tate and Mitchell Anderson looked like. Scientist was definitely not one of them.

"I'd always thought of you as an unusual pair of conjoined twins." Niall continued.

Tate laughed, then he said "What does conjoined mean?"

Jared considered for a moment joining in on the jesting, but his mind focused upon more important things. He was currently standing on the second floor of a hostel in Scarow, one of the most dangerous cities in the world. He gritted his teeth. He had never felt so excited before. His body was pumping adrenaline line a drug.

But right now there was a much less exciting but still relatively important question that needed answering: Who would he be sharing a bunk with. He looked around the room. About half of the boys he did not want to be forced to divide a bunkbed with. George Asher may well decide to breath fire on his, Philip might accidentally shoot quills into him, and although his newly forming friendship with Jason Jones was going well he did fear that the hot-headed hooligan might decide to blast him through the roof for a laugh. Having Niall sleep underneath or above him would probably be nightmarish, constantly hearing him complain, saying things like 'shut up' or 'stop moving, and knowing that he would be forced to comply. That was about half of the male members of the class he had excluded. That left Tate, Jon, Payton, Lu, John, Jean and Ty. He could cross out Tate straight away. He would never willing share a bed with him, no matter what anyone could say to try and convince him. The less time he spent in close proximity to the Andersons the better. He would rather not share with Lu, John, Jean or Ty. Lu was a smartass and acted unnecessarily smug for someone who constantly made simple mistakes. Jean was loud and abrasive, far to lively to let him get any sleep. John didn't seem so bad, but he was rather quiet and unsocial. Jared wasn't completely sure how comfortable he was with sharing a bunk with him. And finally Ty, consider his recent efforts in the Criminal Apprehension Exam, would definitely not be sharing a bed with Jared Wreath. Jared was not at all happy with his refused to help out their team, and as such he wasn't going to arbitrarily be nice just out of courtesy. That left Jon and Payton. Jared couldn't really decide between either. Payton would probably be more fun, he and Jared had a lot of similar hobbies and Payton was good at making people laugh. But he had heard from a chain of whispers that he snored really loudly. Jared did not want to be awake with the sound of obstructed air causing nasal respiratory structures to vibrate. Then that left…

"Jared."

Jared turned. Jon stood behind him. "Yeah?" He said.

"Would you mind sharing a bunk with me?" He asked.

Jared blinked. That certainly made his choice easy. "Sure." He told him, smiling. "I'm fine with that."

"Then would you mind if I took the bottom bunk?" Jon continued, glancing down at this heavy iron feet. "I can't really climb the ladder with these after all. I'll probably break the bed and crush you if I try."

"Hah." Jared laughed, though secretly he felt a little horrified by the concept that Jon had just posed. "No worries, I wanted the top bunk anyway."

"Thanks."

Jon carried his luggage across the room and placed it by the ladder of the bunkbed closest to the door. It stood sideways against the wall opposite the window, allowing the two boys a beautiful look out at the city beyond. Jared attempted to carry his suitcase up onto the above bunk. It took him a couple of tries but eventually he got it up there. He sat with his legs hanging over the ladder as he unzipped his suitcase and began unpacking his belongings. Why had he even wondered who he would share the bunk with? Of course the answer would be Jon.

Dubstep reappeared in the doorway, looking slightly flustered and forgetful. "Oh, I forgot to mention something earlier." He stated quickly through a hanging mouth. "Ravenhead, Aries and I vill be taking a number of students for a valk along the top of the vall this evening. If anyone is interested you should be downstairs and ready by four. You may vant to wash beforehand, set a good impression for our academy by being clean."

Then he was gone again.

The boys looked at each other, some showing interest, others showing disinterest. It was enlightening to see who was showing which.

"So, a _valk_ along the _vall_?" George repeated, mocking his teacher's western European accent. "Sounds boring as all hell." He suddenly turned towards Jared, a mocking glare in his eyes. "Won't set a very good impression for the academy if you go up there, Wreath."

Jared didn't respond. He knew too well that retaliating to such a petty comment would do him no good. George was not so quick to let it go, however.

"Didn't you hear me?" He asked mockingly, taking a step towards Jared.

What happened next came as a small shock.

Jason grabbed George by the shoulder, pulled him away from Jared, and stated clearly "Leave him alone already." Both George and Philip were surprised by this. Jason had never tried to stop either of them before, not in such a public way.

"Alright, Jace." George growled, shrugging Jason's hand away. "What's your game?"

"We don't need to be starting fights right now." Jason told him calmly, though even Jared could tell it was a threat.

"When did you become so soft?" The dog-headed boy snarled, baring his sharp teeth as the skin upon his bald head wrinkled. "Don't tell me you've fallen for the quirkless mongrel?"

"Guys…" Philip tried to calm them both down, but neither of them payed him any attention

"I'm tired, and I don't care for being an asshole right now." Jason told him. "If you want to let of some steam why don't you try chasing your own tail for a bit, or barking at your reflection?"

George began to growl, his usually human sounding voice now a low, gruff canine bark. He was hunching forwards, arms tense and legs bent.

Jared decided it was time that he left the room, and so he quickly hurried out before a fight could ensue.

Though he didn't get the chance to state it, he could not have disagreed more with George's comment. A walk along the London wall had to be amazing. You could probably see for miles in all directions. From above the cities of Scarow and Galafrei would be like specks. He knew the moment he heard the suggestions that he would take part in it. How could he not? He waited for chances like this, to see the world he was entering into, to prove himself capable of living within it. Even the smaller things would be worth seeking out. He needed to jump at every opportunity he was given, and though this was unlikely to give him much, additional experience was always worthwhile.

He would have a shower first though, as dubstep had suggested. He had not had the chance to wash that morning as he had needed to walk to the academy in order to get on the bus. If he had been late would have been left behind, and he didn't want to risk that.

* * *

The bathroom was next door to their dormitory, only a step down the corridor. Its large door was already open, but there was no sound of water or movement or even quiet talking from within. Then he was alone in here. Grabbing a grey town from a rack near the doorway, he picked out an open cubicle near the far end of the room, closed the curtain behind him, undressed and turned the water on.

There was something inexpressibly refreshing about warm water. Cold water made the skin shrivel and tense, hot water made it burn, boil and blister, but warm water relaxed the senses and saturated the body with calmness. Jared let it drown him, pouring down his hair and back, across his shoulders and collar bone. This was one of the few things that ever truly relaxed him.

Though unfortunately a nice warm shower did not relax him so much while in the company of other men, all of whom were not wearing clothes. He heard the doors open, and for a small moment he flinched anxiously. Footsteps approached and then passed by. The curtain to the next door cubicle was pushed open and then closed once more. Closely following that was the sound of a shower turning on and water striking the tiled floor under it. Jared tried not to let the sound of another showering person bother him too much, but he couldn't quite shut out the knowledge that there was another naked man only a metre away, with a plastic wall between them.

"Hey, Jared…"

He froze. That was the voice of Jason Jones. So he was in the cubicle next to him?

"Yeah?" Jared called back after a few seconds had passed. He had to speak up in order to hear himself over the rushing water.

"Sorry about George. He can be a real asshole sometimes."

Jared wasn't sure what was happening right now. Was Jason trying to apologise to him again, this time about something out of his control? Had he sought him out on purpose?

"He's your friend? "Jared asked coldly.

"Not by choice. He was the first person I spoke to here. He didn't treat me like shit. He and Philip were willing to be around me, so I didn't push them away. I'm not much like either of them. I can't really relate to them in that respect. We're friends out of convenience."

"That's not friendship, though." Jared told him. "You're just convincing yourself that they're your friends because you don't want to feel alone?"

Jason was quiet for a while. Jared thought that he might have offended him with his last comment.

"I don't think I really know what a friend is." Jason finally told him. He sounded oddly solemn when he said it.

"A friend is someone who looks out for you, who cares about you, who makes you laugh and makes you feel wanted." Jared explained. "A friend is someone you can trust to stand by you, but also point out when you're wrong."

"That sounds a lot like a sibling to me." Jason muttered.

Jared pondered on that. He had an interesting point. There was a lot of similarities between a good friend and a good sibling. The only big difference was the biological relation. Perhaps it was possible for a friend to be seen as a family member and a family member to be seen as a friend. Thinking about it he thought of Aaren as a sort of older sister, possibly step-sister. Maisie was close to being a younger sibling and Jon could well be the older brother or cousin. Again, the only think that separated the rolls of family and friend for Jared was the biological blood connection that families have.

"I asked George to leave you alone." Jason continued. "He and Philip won't bother you anymore… neither will I."

"Thank You." Jared said. He was grateful that Jason would do that for him. He didn't need the protection, but knowing that Jason wanted to improve was great. Perhaps he could indeed change, become someone more respectable and worthwhile. Perhaps there was a chance that the two of them could actually become friends after all.

Their talking and the sound of rushing water had deafened out all other sounds in the bathroom. Neither of the boys had noticed the sound of the doors open and another person entering inside. Jared did however notice the sound of movement in the cubicle to his left as well as hushed whispers and quiet laugh. For a moment he considered peaking over the plastic wall to see who was there, but quickly he remembered where he was and how indecent that would be. More sounds came now, grunts and annoyed muttered.

A head poked over the top of the cubicle.

Jared almost shouted in shock. Immediately he covering his personal regions with his hands.

"Hey." Mitchell said with concerning casualness. "Nice abs, been working out?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Jared blurted out, grabbing a towel from the rack upon the right wall of his cubicle and quickly wrapping it around his lower region.

"Is that Jared?" Came the voice of the ghostly quirk's originator, Tate Anderson. "Hi Jared. Don't mind us. Just doing a little experiment."

"Experiment?" Jared exclaimed.

"We're peaking!" Mitchell told him with excitement.

"I can see that!" Jared snapped back with anger. "Do you mind not doing so?"

"No, we're not peaking on you." Mitchell explained hurriedly. "We're peaking on the girls!"

Jared's mouth slowly opened and shut. This scenario was baffling him beyond sanity. "What?" He said after a few seconds had passed.

"What's going on?" Jason called, unable and unwilling to look over his cubicle wall. Apparently he could see Mitchell however, as he suddenly let out an exhausted and exasperated groan. "Oh god, it's no balls and his bodiless brother."

"Nice to see you too, fart hands." Mitchell snapped back.

"We were thinking…" Tate began to explain from behind the plastic wall. "In hotels they usually design it so that the bathrooms are beside each other. It saves on plumbing, you see. So I thought, what if they did the same thing when they made this place. If they did then the next floor up should have their bathroom right above ours, and since the girls have the floor above ours…"

Jared was now starting to see what the twins were up to, and he didn't like it at all.

"You're going to get all three of us in trouble!" He hissed at them. "What if they're using the showers like we are?"

"I was sort of hoping for that." He heard Tate say, and though Jared could not see his face he was certain that he was grinning.

Jared covered his face with a palm. It was pointless arguing with the two of them. Once they had an idea like this in their heads no one could stop them. They'd find a way to do it regardless of who told them not to.

"Hold on, I'm lifting you up again." Mitchell sharply rose upwards, his body becoming visible over the wall now. Intriguingly it seemed he was still wearing all of his clothing. Perhaps he was unable to change his clothes like Tate was, though that did sort of make sense with him essentially being a ghost.

Jared decided he would look away while the twins got to work on their mischief. He couldn't stop them, so instead he wouldn't encourage them either. He would pretend they weren't there and act innocent if any of the teachers came looking for a pair of peepers who could wall through walls and floors.

Mitchell stood up on Tate's shoulders, raised his head till it touched the tiled ceiling, and then pushed straight through it.

"See anyone?" Tate asked.

"Oh yeah." Was Mitchell's reply. "I _see_ them."

"Good grief." Jared muttered.

"How many are in there?" Tate asked eagerly.

Mitchell began to count on his fingers. "Five, Six, Seven, Eight of them. One of the older girls is in there, too! Cor Blimey!" His head retreated back through the ceiling. "That grey woman looks even better without the revealing clothing." He stated in the bluntest way a sixteen year old boy could.

Jared let out a groan. He was feeling very uncomfortable right now.

"Who's in there from our class?" Jason surreptitiously asked.

Don't encourage them!" Jared hissed at him.

Mitchell swayed on Tate's shoulders. "Lavender, Barbara, Riley, Billie, Vikki…" He paused. "…cute girl."

"Which one is cute girl?" Tate asked.

"You know, the cute one." Mitchell said unhelpfully. "The one that powerless boy hangs around with." He gestured at Jared when he said that.

Now Jared was feeling angry. No doubt he was referring to Maisie. The worst part about it was that Maisie probably didn't understand that what they were doing was morally and socially wrong.

"Is Freya in there?" Tate inquired out of curiosity.

"I didn't see a wheelchair." Mitchell said.

"How do you shower while you're confined to one of those things anyway?" Jason wondered.

That was indeed an interesting question, but not one that Jared wanted to know the answer too.

"Oh, hang on." Mitchell stated after a moment.

"What is it?" Tate whispered.

A pause that lasted for five seconds. Mitchell lowered his head and looked down at his brother with a mischievous grin.

"Yeah, they definitely saw me."

"Then it's time to get down." Tate decided.

"Hold on, I want to get a better look." Mitchell argued.

Jared felt like vomiting. He knew that boys would be boys, and therefor they were prone to this sort of perverted and antisocial behaviour, but the Andersons always seemed to go way beyond the line. Jared couldn't say that he had never been… curious about the female members of his class, but at least he respected them enough to not do what the twins were doing.

Mitchell then gave out a sudden and painful yelp. He wobbled on Tate's shoulders and fell backwards, collapsing onto his brother and pulling them both to the wet tiles ground. Jared swiftly turned upon hearing the sound. His first reaction was that they had slipped, which would have been a deserving fate for their actions. Then he saw the foot that was protruding through the roof where Mitchell had been peeking. A bare female foot, skinny and dripping water. It passed through the roof in the same way that Mitchell's head had, and was then just as quickly pulled back through into the room above.

"What was that?" Tate groaned from the floor of his cubicle.

"That bloody Whitley girl kicked me in the head!" Mitchell shouted, pained. "Bitch!"

Aaren had done that? Jared laughed. Of course she had. She was the only other person in the entire school that could pass any part of her body through solid matter. It was also very much in her personality to kick someone like Tate and Mitchell Anderson in the head. Though he was certainly not impressed by the actions of the twins, he was glad now that they had tried, if simply to witness that marvellous moment of karma.

* * *

"I can't believe those Anderson brothers sometimes." Aaren said with fury.

She, Jared, several of the other students, Ravenhead and Dubstep were currently walking along the top of the London wall. On their right was the vast city of Scarow, covered as far as the horizon could see with smoke and polluted air. The wall stretched on beyond, curving like an outline to the city's body. Though the city was not quite a speck bellow them, it was certainly much smaller from this high up. Each building was about the size of a fingernail, and the streets were as thin as arteries. Jared was glad that he didn't suffer from vertigo, else looking down from such a height would have made him sick.

"Neither can I." He agreed with her. "I was in the room with them. They just decided to do it. I tried to convince them not to, but they didn't care."

"I'm sure you did." Aaren said with a sarcastic, sideways grin.

Jared raised an eyebrow at her. "You really think I'd encourage them to do that?" He asked, offended. "I mean, it's not like there's anything worth seeing in… there…" He trailed of quickly. Aaren was now glaring at him.

"Is that so?" She asked in a quiet but unnerving voice.

"Ye-es." Jared insisted, hiding his blushing face. He couldn't lie to her. She had a way of extracting the truth through a simple stare. Aaren Whitley was a girl who could draw blood from a stone. "Nice move, though." He complemented, quickly changing the subject.

"Thank you." Aaren said, relaxing her expression a little more, though not quite forgetting her suspicion of him. "Pervert got what he deserved."

"It was very funny." Jared said.

She looked at him. She laughed. "I suppose it was."

He was glad of that at least. While she was most definitely not happy, she could at least make a joke about this sort of thing.

Jared glanced behind him. Several police officers were following behind them, all equipped with rifles and some with gasmasks. It was regulation that any civilians wanting to walk along the wall had to be accompanied by either a group of soldiers or police officers. There were always men patrolling the wall, but they were stationed at specific outposts and would only patrol around that area. These officers were accompanying them specifically, making sure that they didn't come to any harm or attempt to cause any trouble. Jared had to wonder just how many soldiers and police officers guarded this place. The wall was miles long. It stretched around an entire city. How many men did you need to watch and protect each section?

"At least it was an interesting start to this trip." Aaren said, looking on the Brightside. "Though, like you said, there's not much worth seeing in a girl's bathroom."

"No." Jared agreed, _'Other than the girls themselves.'_ He thought within the quiet secrecy of his mind.

"Do you mind if I ask you something, Jared?" Aare asked suddenly.

"Ask away."

Aaren intertwined her fingers, biting her lower lip in nervous thought. "I've been wondering for a while but… are you… you know…?"

"I know what?" Jared repeated.

"You know…" Aaren insisted "Interested… in girls, I mean."

Jared blinked. "Yes, Aaren, I am." He said.

"I see." Aaren looked away.

"What, did you think I was…?"

"I didn't say that." Aaren interrupted quickly. "It's not an issue. I was just curious if you were."

"I'm straight, Aaren." He told her with a confirming time. "As straight as a ruler."

"Right."

The two of them fell quiet for a bit.

"So, are you…?" He began.

"Yes, Jared, I'm into guys." She told him simply.

"Cool."

More silence followed suit. They took about twenty steps before Aaren spoke up again.

"So…" She began, speaking slowly and uncertainly. "Are you… interested in… any of the girls… in our class?" She picked at the words with the grace of a baby elephant.

Jared wasn't sure what to say to her. He didn't know if he wanted to divulge that sort of information, even if it was with Aaren. But the biggest issue is that he wasn't sure if he did like any of the girls. He certainly found a few of them to attractive, but that was just teenage lust. Anything with hips, breasts and a uterus would have sparked that part of his brain up at that age. But in terms of emotional interest… love… he wasn't sure yet. He barely knew most of the girls in the class. Only Aaren and Maisie… Maisie?

"I don't know." He said finally. "I barely know most of them."

"Outside of class?" Aaren pushed further.

He turned to look at her. "Why are you asking me about this?" He inquired, uncomfortable.

"I was just… unsure." Aaren admitted. "You and I spend a lot of time with each other, but sometimes I feel like I still don't know you very well. I rarely spend time with you outside academy hours, or with anyone else for that matter."

"I don't have friends outside of the academy." He told her. "Not any more. There were never any girls or guys that I wanted to spend time with before I came here."

Aaren looked at him apologetically. "Me neither." She admitted. "I've never been good at making friends. Honestly, you're the only person I could actually call a friend. I don't feel like I can trust anyone else."

Jared was a little moved by that suggestion. Aaren treasured his companionship that much? But then he felt sad that she didn't see anyone else that way. "Surely you have at least one other friend?" He said. "What about one of the other girls? Maisie?"

"Maisie and I are different people." Aaren interrupted. "We don't get along well. We barely even communicate. I've tried to be nice to her but I'm pretty certain she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you." Jared reassured her.

"She only ever spends time with you." Aaren continued, getting a little heated about the subject. "She doesn't seem to see anyone else. All she ever does is hang around you. All she ever talks about is her time with you. You're probably all she ever thinks of too. The worst part is you indulge her. You never let her out of your sight. God, it's like the two of you just got married."

Jared was stunned. He had never seen this side of Aaren before. She sounded Jealous of Maisie, of what she had. He had no idea where that jealousy had sprouted from.

"Aaren…" He told her calmly. "Maisie isn't in love with me."

Aaren blinked. "What?"

"She's not in love with me." He repeated. "She's not interested in guys… or girls either. She's not attracted to people."

Aaren's face contorted with horror. "Then, she's…"

"I don't think she's attracted to anything." He told her quickly. "I asked her about it once… on the day we visited the Odd Crowd." He lowered his voice. "I think she's asexual."

"Asexual?" Aaren repeated. "Jared, you can't know that without her confirming it."

"It makes sense though." He told her. "I've never seen her show interest in another human being like that, she's disgusted by the concept of sex, she doesn't understand innuendo and she doesn't realise when she's being flirted with."

"That could mean anything." Aaren reasoned with him. "It doesn't necessarily mean she's asexual."

"I'm not saying that's a problem." He explained. "It just means that I have to be careful around her. I can't just make jokes or comments about that sort of stuff, it makes her uncomfortable." He paused. There was more he wanted to say, but it didn't feel right to say it.

Aaren was looking at him with her piercing eyes. "You like her, don't you?" She said in realisation.

Jared's blood turned cold. "No." He lied.

"You do." She insisted. "That's why it bothers you. You're in love with her."

"Not in love." Jared argued back. "It's… complicated. I like her, but not in that way. Besides, she'll never reciprocate those feelings. That's just who she is. I'm not upset about it. I'm just… not sure how to feel."

Aaren folded her arms and looked at him quietly and judgingly. Finally she sighed and shook her head. "Whatever you say, Jay." She murmured. "It's your life after all. You make your own choices. Just don't coddle her so much. It doesn't help her grow, and it doesn't help you either."

Jared thought back on all the time he and Maisie Collard had spent together over the last few months. It felt so weird to think that half a year ago they had not known each other. Both of them had grown in a lot of ways since then. But Jared couldn't quite get rid of the feeling that he had to care for her. She wasn't strong and determined like he was. Under extreme pressure she might snap like a twig. He couldn't bear to see her break like that. He didn't want her to lose hope and confidence when she failed, as he used to.

"Could you do something for me, Aaren?" He asked.

"Depends on what it is." She responded.

"Could you keep an eye on Maisie for me when I'm not around?" He requested, with a voice that emanated paternal concern. "You don't have to coddle her. Just make sure she's doing okay, that she's coping. Could you do that for me?"

Aaren looked visible torn. Something about the suggestion had her internally fighting herself. "Okay." She said finally, expressing uncertainty on her thin face. "I'll try."

"Thanks, Aaren." He smiled at her. She smiled back, but weakly.

In the distance the sun was beginning to set. They had been walking the wall for a couple of hours now, and the November nights were drawing in. The sky was turning orange, covering Scarow, its buildings and its occupants with a dark hue.

A call echoed down from the teachers ahead.

 _"WE'RE HEADING BACK DOWN!"_

Well, this was a fun first day." Aaren said in a joking manner.

"Indeed." Jared agreed. "You never told me, though… are there any guys in the class you're interested in?"

"Not in our class." She said with a sly grin.

"Oh… then where?" Jared asked in a teasing voice.

"There's a few celebrities I can think of…" She stated, biting her lower lip.

"Any names?" Jared encouraged.

Aaren grinned at him. "I've got a list."


	33. Chapter 28 - Sleepless Night

**WARNING: This chapter touches upon some rather heavy subjects and may not be suitable for certain individuals. If you are dealing with depression or suicidal feelings you may not want to read this chapter. Just a precaution though. Please take care. (Further information on this at the end of the chapter.)**

* * *

 **Ty Urban**

 _[23rd November]_

* * *

He couldn't sleep. He lay on the soft plastic mattress under a plastic duvet, his head upon plastic pillows that were almost as soft as the hard floor of a cellar. He looked at the bunk above him. It creaked under its occupant's weight. This was nothing close to comfort. He felt itchy, uncomfortable, the mattress was hard and pushed into his back. Though he supposed it was better than melting through the bed while he slept. At last he was not likely to wake up on a pile of rotted and tattered cloth and foam as he had done many times in the past.

Perhaps Ty couldn't sleep because of the where he was. Most people would be happy to be back in their home city again. Ty one not most people, and not only did he not want to be there, he wanted to escape from there again, to scamper desperately up the wall like a cornered dog and get away from the horrific memories that attacked him every time he so much as breathed. The view of the rooftops outside of the window wasn't helping this sensation, in fact it was probably making it much worse. But Philip, who had drawn the short straw in lots when deciding bunks, had demanded that they have the curtains open slightly. Apparently it helped him relax. Through the bunk above his spines were beginning to poke their way through the mattress. Ty could not relax when looking out at those houses, those buildings, not while they stood under a bright sky full of stars. It only made the city seem more sinister, viler. None of the others truly understood that. They hadn't lived most of their lives in this place.

But he had always had difficulty sleeping. The environment hadn't helped, the bedding and the clothing were always ragged and uncomfortable, there was no feeling of safety that you need to drift off. But even if all of that hadn't been the case, even if he had lived his life till that moment in absolute comfort and luxury, he would have still struggled with dropping off to sleep. Perhaps it was just a part of who he was, his personality, his nature, maybe even his quirk. He never felt safe enough to let go of his consciousness. He had to be aware of everything around him at all times, on the lookout for danger, for threats, for anything which might accidentally fall foul of his quirk. That sort of instinctive mind-set most likely dated back to when mad was first evolving, when there monsters out there in the dark that would lung the moment you stopped focusing on them. People liked to joke that fearing the dark was childish, especially once you got past the age of ten. After all, what was there to fear in the dark? Perhaps there were no monsters now or ever, but there didn't need to be if there were people around. People could quite easily fill the role for them.

Though, having to admit it to himself, the others weren't helping the matter. Night time was sleep time. His mother and father had taught him that from the moment he was able to hear, and Kameron had continued to reinforce this ideal. Though Ty never found it easy to sleep in silence, he found it much harder with the sound of continuous, endless chatting around him.

"Hell of a first day, sitting around doing nothing but unpacking and getting ready for the next few days." Tate was muttering to himself from the upper bunk of a bed against the right wall between the window and doorway. He rolled over, glanced at the occupants of the bunk across from him. "Might as well have gone to downtown Sontarr, taken a walk along the canal. This place hardly looks much different to there."

"It's the first day." Jon reminded him exhaustedly. Clearly this was not the first time he had been forced to explain this simple concept to the Anderson twins. "Nobody does much on the first day of a holiday. You spend that day getting to the location, making sure everything and everyone is in check, unpacking and preparing for the next few days. Surely you could figure that out. You must have been on holiday before."

"Nope." Tate said pompously. "Haven't so much as left the Neworth district before. Not much to see outside Galafrei anyway. Thank god the academy's at the edge of the district."

"Tell me you aren't proud of that." Payton joined in, turning over from his bunk closer to the window.

"What does it matter to you anyway?" Mitchell joined in from his seat upon the bottom bunk of Tate's bed. "Gonna claim you're a connoisseur on travel to foreign countries?"

"Scarow isn't a foreign country." Payton snapped back with sharp wit. "It's a city, dumbass. Also, connoisseur is too big a word for you. Go with something simpler, like 'buff' or 'smartass'."

"You think I can't use big words?" Mitchell said.

"You can't find your arse with you own hands." Payton snapped back.

Tate laughed loudly, and got a louder shush from several other male students who were trying – and unable – to sleep. His brother looked up at him annoyed, and struck the underside of his bed with an intangible fist.

"Ow!" Tate yelped, covering his mouth to quieten the sound.

"You lot are going to wake up everyone in the building." Jared groaned from the bunk above Jon's.

Tate pulled a mockingly pouty face. "Aw, the ickle princess can't get her beauty sleep. What's wrong, got a pea prodding you in the backside?"

"You could have gone on that walk along the wall if you were so bored." Jared told him logically. "It was you own choice to sit around here instead. Now shut up and go to sleep."

"Like I want to walk along the sodding wall." Tate muttered. "What would I see from up there? This shit hole?"

"I thought you were excited to go on this trip?" Jon reminded him.

"I was." Tate agreed. "I wasn't expecting to be sat twiddling my thumbs all day."

"Better you twiddle your thumbs than anything else." Mitchell jested at him. Tate did not join in.

"Well tomorrow we start the activities…" Jared reminded them. "You won't be so bored when we're in the Hero Gymnasium or patrolling the streets."

"That depends greatly upon what actually happens." Tate said.

They began to fall quiet, though it was clear from the amount of shuffling movement under the sheets that they hadn't fallen asleep just yet. This silence allowed Ty to relax for a moment, to let his mind drift away without the interruption of chatter.

His old house was out there somewhere, deeper in the city. He hadn't lived in the Tivoly District, where this hostel was located. He had grown up in a district which he had always known as the Quag, a large slum located to the central-eastern side of the giant city, far from any corner of the wall. Though he had spent most of his live there, Ty had seen very little of that massive district. He was grateful for that. When people mentioned the Quag they did so with disgust and fear. If it were described as an animal, the Quag would have been a giant, flattened, poisonous slug coated in spines and seeping slime everywhere. Scarow was abundant with crime, but out of all its districts none were as bad as that place. The air was thick with pollution from factories; the streets were cracked, charred and uncleaned; dustbins were filled beyond capacity and often lying on their sides; men with knives, bats and occasionally guns would wander around from dusk to dawn looking for prey. The police had next to no presence in that part of the city, and that was considering their presence was minimal here in general. They stuck to the walls for a reason. So instead the citizens of the Quag were regulated by an ever multiplying number of gangs, mobs and criminal syndicates. Each week a new group would crop up, and they would either die out quickly, be absorbed into another gang, or very rarely they would overthrow the larger groups around them and become the dominant organisation on their street.

Though Ty had seen none of this. This knowledge had been passed down to him by his father when he was alive. Occasionally Ty had heard the fights from the sewer grate on the corner of his cellar bedroom. Gunfire, swishing, shouting, gurgling… then silence. Sometimes he was glad that he never saw any of these fights take place. Other times he wished that he hadn't heard them either. The human mind is capable of conjuring some very horrific images when provided with a minimal amount of information. He had once tried counting the gunshots. His father had told him that counting the seconds between a thunderclap and lightning strike would tell you how close the storm was. He wondered if that method would work there. The gunshots came so rapidly he couldn't even begin to count them. The storm had been directly over his head. Each shot rang through his mind so vividly. _Bang… Bang… Bang…_

 _BANG!_

A gunshot rang out across the city.

The twelve boys all sat up sharply, as a second shot rang out, then a third, then a fourth. Silence followed after that. The sound had not been close, echoing off the many buildings of the Tivoly district.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Payton exclaimed, breathing heavily.

"A shootout?" Tate reasoned. "Now that's a little exciting."

"They could've been aiming for us." Philip murmured in shock.

"Give over, Phil." George said with surprising calmness. "If they had been shooting at us then the shots would've been much louder and they would have probably hit something. Besides, what's there worth shooting at in here?"

"Twelve trainee heroes." Jared whispered in response.

"How would they know that?" George snapped at him nastily.

"I'll shut the curtains for now." Jon said, sliding his feet of the bunk and walking slowly, sleeping across the room. He grabbed the curtains and pulled them sharply across the glass panes. Instantly the light of the glowing moon was snuffed out. The room fell into complete darkness.

Philip gave a short groan, but put up with the lack of an outside view. "Now we can't see when someone decides to shoot at us." He exclaimed.

"No one's going to shoot at us." Jon reassured him. "Chances are there aren't any criminals around this area. We're barely three blocks away from the wall. There's tons of police and multiple heroes patrolling this district so most will have either been chased off or arrested long before we arrived."

Jon's rationality seemed to help calm the situation down. Philip at the very least was beginning to relax again. His bunk moved as he rolled over and his spines dug deeper through the mattress.

"Where were we before that happened?" Tate mused.

"We were trying to sleep…" Jared said. "And you were keeping us up."

"You expect me to be able to sleep after that?" Tate asked rhetorically. "Not on your life. Someone's going to have to read me a bedtime story and get me a mug of hot chocolate before I can even begin to relax."

"You're gonna get a fist in the teeth if you keep up." George warned.

"How about a quick quiz, then?" Tate encouraged.

"No." Payton told him.

"Can you lot please be quieter." Hissed John Quincy, his head covered by a pillow to try and drown out the noise.

"Yeah, it's like there's a bloody pack of hyenas in here." Lu added, his own head buried under half a duvet.

"Alright, how about a hypothetical question?" Tate stated with boundless audacity, not so much as blinking at the requests of his classmates. "Give you geniuses a chance to flex your intellectual muscles."

The boys who were currently still awake and willing listen to the Andersons' ramblings all groaned with reluctant acceptance. They were too tired to keep arguing and chances were he would keep pressing them till they gave in, so it was better to just have it out of the way now.

"Alright, let's hear it." Jon stated quietly

Tate rolled onto his side and began gesturing with his hands. "So you have to choose one of three options." He began explaining with eager delight. "You can either: end world hunger, cure all known diseases or permanently stop war from breaking out. You can only pick one, and whichever you pick the other two will become drastically more serious. Which do you choose?"

Surprisingly the others seemed to take a moment to respond. Somehow Tate had said something that stumped them.

"That's actually a difficult conundrum." Jon said, with the mildest hint of respect. He shot Tate a suspicious look straight after. "Hard to believe that you came up with it."

"Go on then, big 'n' heavy, which one would you pick?" Mitchell teased, acting out a mocking yawn.

Jon was quiet for a shot while, lying on his back with his iron feet hanging over the end, looking at the bunk above and thinking intently.

"When you say cure all diseases are you talking about physical diseases only or mental ones as well?"

"All diseases means all diseases, numbnuts." Mitchell retorted unhelpfully.

"I'd go with that." Jon stated, ignoring the ghostly brother's insult.

"Anyone else?" Tate ventured.

Most of the other boys had either given up in responding and were trying to get some sleep, or were now thinking on the answer for Tate's theoretical problem.

"I'd probably end world hunger." Payton decided after a minute or two of thought. "It still affects more people around the world than the other two, so it would probably save more lives."

"I'd bring an end to war." Jared joined in a moment later. "We can't begin to solve the other two completely if we aren't all united in the matter. War prevents that, so we solve that issue first."

"I see." Tate swelled up his chest, breathed in long and loudly, and then in a voice just as loud he stated oppressively, "You're all massive idiots!"

The entire room seemed to shake with his voice. The bodies of the boys that had been trying to get some rest were now turning over and glaring at him with lost patience and rapidly growing rage. The three boys who had been entertaining the Andersons – Jared, Jon and Payton – looked surprised and shocked by the outburst. Tate was returning all of their looks with a cocky, know it all expression.

"Dude, keep your damn voice down." Payton whispered, glancing at the door in case it were to suddenly burst open and one of their teachers, angry for being woken, walked in.

"You all think inside the box too much. You didn't even stop to think about a fourth, fifth or even sixth option that might be available to you." Tate continued proudly, not noticing at all the reaction of the room or showing any sign of regret for the amount of noise he was making. "No matter which of the solutions you pick, the other two will get worse. These are the three major issues that have eternally plagued humanity. If any one of them gets worse we run the risk of being wiped out completely. So there for the best choice is not to pick any of them, that way we cannot make any of them worse."

"That may be the most broken logic I have ever heard." Jon reasoned, his iron hard patience now beginning to ware as well. "You definitely didn't come up with that conundrum yourself, not if that's your solution."

"Like you could do better, large legs." Mitchell snapped.

"How does inactivity solve the problem?" Jon continued. "If we just left those problems alone they wouldn't get better. Diseases crop up all the time, strains of known ones and brand new ones. If we didn't have people containing them, finding cured for them then humanity would go extinct within a century. And if people didn't try to solve hunger then people would just starve, be left to die."

"That may help the issue." George joined in again. "Would mean there are less mouths to feed."

"Bloody hell." Muttered Philip in disgust.

"How does thinking that way solve any of the world's problems." Jared said, clearly agreeing with Jon. "If we don't try and do something then nothing will ever get better. People have to act in order to make changes."

"And what if those changes make things worse?" Tate retorted. "Did you think of that, you Quirkless bastard?"

"You have to try." Jared insisted. Something about this conversation was getting to him on a personal level. "If you won't try and solve your own problems then what is the point of even being alive?"

Ty found himself a little shaken by that comment, not because of the sternness in Jared's voice or because of the conversation that had come with it. What struck him most was the suggestion that people who don't attempt to fix their problems should simply die. Ty couldn't lie to himself about how that made him feel.

He agreed with it.

He had many problems, and not one of them he had succeeded in solving. He had a home now, a family who at least attempted to care for him… but that hadn't made him happy. It hadn't made him feel safe or loved or normal or hopeful. It had just given him something else to lose. How long would it be before he destroyed all of that too, as he had destroyed his real family over the course of sixteen years? Could he live through that again? He did not live to solve problems. He lived to cause them. The amount of time and work that had gone into simply finding him clothes that he could wear, food that he could eat and a bed which he could sleep on. So much effort, so much time, all for someone who would never be worth it. His mother was right. He was a plague upon all who were near him. Perhaps Jon's suggestion of a cure for all diseases would work on him too, but he couldn't even muster a glimmer of hope to believe in such a hypothetical possibility.

Perhaps then the only option was to rid them of himself. He couldn't run away, then he would just become someone else's problem and the cycle would start again. So then the only other real option was… death. It had plagued him his entire life, it made sense to him that that would be the only option left. He had tried it before, however… many times. His quirk wouldn't let him. A power that rotted, eroded and dissolved all matter the moment it touched his skin. He had tried cutting himself, but any and all instruments he had tried would just rust away, even the kind that weren't supposed to rust. Drinking hazardous liquids… they neutralised in his stomach, turning into little more than water. He had considered getting a gun, perhaps a bullet would remain in shape long enough to penetrate his skull. But where would he get one? Firearms were very difficult to come across in the UK, people didn't have shops openly selling them as they did in other places, and there were laws in place that heavily restricted their ownership and use. He had almost tried to grab one from one of the officers that had arrested him that fateful day, but at the time he had chickened out, unable to push himself to just do it. The weapon would probably just disintegrate before he could use it anyway.

So he was left feeling eternally alone, unable to fix himself, unable to prevent himself from hurting others, unable to even end the disease that was his existence. He was cursed.

"It was a stupid question anyway." Tate muttered in annoyance, unable to convince the others into seeing his way. "Didn't expect you all to get so grumpy at me."

"Perhaps that was because you were screaming like a bloody banshee." Jason finally joined in, having been only half away for most of the time.

"You're a banshee!" Tate retorted pathetically.

"Or a bangshee!" Mitchell joined in, cracking a smile. "Because he makes loud bang sounds with his hands. We should start calling you that. Bangshee!"

"I don't like it." Jason stated laxly. "Sounds stupid.

"You're stupid!"

"You need to work more on your insults." George said, yawning. "They're getting worse."

"Oh go to sleep all of you." Tate said, finally giving up on the discussion.

"We were trying to." Jared muttered angrily.

"Hang on a second, why hasn't our old master of the commanding voice not silenced us yet?" Mitchell realised. Out of the twelve of them, only Ty and Niall had not joined in with the heated debate.

Payton leaned over the bunk, looked down underneath his bed at the bunk bellow. He looked back up.

"He's wearing earplugs." He said with surprise.

"Guess he wasn't prepared to put up with your shit tonight." Jared said, looking across at Tate and Mitchell.

"Not that he enjoys putting up with any of your shit either." Mitchell snapped back.

"If only there were a cure all for those problems." Jon pondered aloud, with a much quieter voice than Tate. "A sort of Panacea for all the world's great issues. Think anything like that could ever exist?"

"Probably not." Payton told him. "Like you said, you can't ever permanently solve the issue. Diseases will always be evolving into new strains, people will always need to be fed and wars will always break out over the smallest of disagreements."

"I don't think I said that exactly." Jon said.

"Well you said something like that." Payton corrected.

"If people will start wars over a simple disagreement over whose father killed who else's father than they'll start wars over anything." Mitchell said knowledgeable. "Tate and I argue all the time. We once argued about-"

There was sudden silence. The boys sat up, looking confused.

"About what?" Jon asked.

They looked at the bunk which Mitchell had been sat on. He was no longer there.

"He's popped out of existence." Payton said in surprise. He sounded as if he was about to burst out laughing. "Well how about that, he really does just stop existing when Tate falls asleep."

"He's asleep already?" Jared said in socked annoyance. "After all that?"

"Those bloody Andersons." Payton muttered in agreement.

"We can finally attempt to sleep now at least." Jared said with a hint of relief. "Goodnight, boys."

"G'night."

Shortly after the room was quiet. Everyone was finally drifting of into the void of sleep… Everyone except Ty.

He lay on his plastic bed, under plastic sheets, his head on a plastic pillow, wearing plastic pyjamas, feeling cold, alone and hopeless. All their talk of helping people, solving problems, doing good for the world. How could any of them believe it? How could they sleep at night knowing what was out there? How could they wake up feeling that they could face the world? How could they stand every second believing that they could make a change? What kept any of them going? How could they manage it? Ty's body constantly ached because of it. He had seen the world beyond that window, the city of Scarow at its heart. Would they still have that hope when they saw it?

He rolled over and looked at the curtains that now covered the window. Through them a small slither of moonlight came through, landing on Ty's face. He could see that massive orbital body far up in the sky looking down on him like a gloomy grey eyeball.

He waited for the void… but the void would never come.

* * *

 **So I just want to leave a small note explaining why I left a warning for this chapter.**

 **I'm well aware that certain difficult subjects could emotionally upset or trigger people, and I want to avoid hurting someone with what I write. Depression and suicidal thoughts are a massive thing to deal with, and I know just how much one poorly thought out word can hurt someone dealing with such feelings. If you are dealing with such feelings then please speak to someone who can help you, whether it be a family member, friend or medically professional. There a phone numbers for organisations that will help you, the Samaritans is a good example. There are people out there who want to help you.**

 **As for why this is being introduced into the story: As a writer I want to face difficult matters such as this, to try and explain just how they affect someone. I grew up seeing various awful depictions of mental illness. One of my major goals as a writer to bring to light the struggles people with these illnesses go through, having been through my own mental struggles, some of which I still face. I always intended to deal with the subject of depression and suicidal thoughts through Ty, and if it hadn't been obvious in his first chapter I suppose it is now. I don't want to go into too much detail on this idea is it** _will_ **ruin plans I have for the story later, but do know that Ty's personality, views and experiences are not supposed to represent ALL people with depression. They merely represent him, though a number of the aspects that make up his mind and personality are derived from his depression.**

 **I would also like to add that I am sorry if any of what I wrote in this chapter - or any of the previous/later chapters - has in any way upset or offended you. It was not my intent to do so and I have done the very best I can to research, understand and represent any of the difficult subjects I talk about. This comment can certainly relate back to the revelations on Jason's father and Maisie's sexuality. There is going to be more discussion on these difficult matters further into the story, with other situations, problems and discussions of a difficult nature cropping up. I'm hoping that my readers are mature enough to understand this.**

 **So thank you all for putting up with me. I wanted to upload this chapter much sooner, but I was struggling to think of what to put in this chapter and how to deal with the specific subject of it respectfully. Ironically there isn't much to fill this chapter with other than that subject. Hopefully apart from that this was an enjoyable chapter. Innitialy it was supposed to just be a more lighthearted chapter, but I realised that it was a good chance to get a further look at Ty's psyche. Don't worry though, the next chapter will be more lighthearted. I hope to introduce a brand new main character to the story too, one I've been looking forward to bring in. So get excited for that.**

 **See you all then. Thank you for your patience, and please remember that there are people out there who care about you. :)**


	34. Chapter 29 - Great White

**Aaren Whitley**

 _[November 24th]_

* * *

Breakfast was a buffet. Upon a long white sheet table were laid out hot plates of fried eggs, sausages, bacon, hashbrowns, fried tomatoes, baked beans, fried mushrooms – the essentials for a classic British breakfast. There were other colder options; toast with butter or jam, fruit, salad, sandwiches, cereal. It was this healthier choice that Aaren was now piling upon her plate. The others had all indulged in the fattiest options available, but she was thinking about her cholesterol levels and physical fitness. They were supposed to be training in a professional's gymnasium today. Filling her stomach with bacon, sausage and fried bread would not help keep her energy up.

She sat with her small group of friends at the end of one of three large table. It was not that the group itself was small, in fact its numbers had been growing more recently. Tate and Mitchell were now allowed to sit with them, though they still managed to annoy everyone near them, Freya had started hanging out with them, and even Jason was welcome amongst their number. At least ten members of the class were sitting at their table. Aaren was starting to feel less like their group were the outcasts and more that they were the new in crowd. Aaren saw their friend group as small because most of its members she was not actually friends with. She merely knew them and put up with them. Everyone other than Jared, and to some extent Maisie, were just there. Still she sat with them, because they were the closest thing to friends that she had. The other girls wouldn't have let them sit with her, and even the boys wanted nothing to do with her. Perhaps they disliked her. She couldn't think why.

Her seat slid in under the table, beside Jared and Freya. She was careful not to catch its legs upon her wheels and accidentally knock her into the table or away from it. The girl had placed a cushion underneath her seat in order to reach the table. Even then she had to lean forwards to eat properly. Aaren felt quite out of place watching everyone else tuck in to plates of oil cooked meat and fatty vegetables while she picked at her cold salad and sipped slowly from a glass of orange juice. She shot Jared a small glance as he was halfway through devouring a sausage, as if to ask if he knew just how much damage that sort of food was doing to his body. Upon seeing her stare he lowered his fork and left the sausage alone.

"Big day today." Tate announced with a mouth full of beans. "We get to do some real work now, experience some actual hero stuff."

"What did you think we were doing the last few months?" Payton asked him, looking too tired to put much emotion into his face or his words.

"I thought that was all practice." Tate explained. "Whereas today we get to do the _actual_ hero stuff!"

"What do you define as hero stuff exactly?" Jon said, covering his mouth as he yawned.

"You know," Tate said, burping loudly and not pardoning himself afterwards, "hero stuff."

"Helpful, as always." Jared murmured.

"You guys all seem really tired." Freya noticed, looking across at the boys. Aaren had noticed it too. They had bags under their eyes and their expressions were less emotive than usual.

"You can thank those two for that." Payton said, nodding his head across at the Andersons, who interestingly enough did not seem tired at all. In fact they looked well refreshed. "They kept us up most of the night with their constant talking and shouting."

"Oh what?" Tate said light-heartedly. "Like you didn't join in."

"I was trying to get you to shut up." Payton explained.

"You can't stop us from talking." Mitchell stated with pride. "When an Anderson has something to say he says it!"

"We've noticed that." Aaren mused.

"Incidentally…" Tate continued, leaning across the table with a mischievous smile. "You guys won't get much sleep tonight either. In fact you might want to sleep somewhere else, especially at the rate I'm consuming these beans."

There was a unanimous groan from every other mouth at the table. The knowledge that Tate would be blowing off the bedcovers that night was not enlightening to any of them, in fact it was purely disgusting.

"Are you anything other than gross, annoying or whiny?" Freya asked the twins.

They looked back at her, and for the briefest of moments Aaren was certain she saw Tate blush. "Yeah." He said meekly. "We can be romantic, too"

"You, romantic?" Freya laughed.

"Yeah." Tate confirmed, furthering the lie.

"Touching someone inappropriately is not romantic." Jared told them with a stern glare. That got a laugh, even from Mitchell. Tate however did not laugh. He seemed rather offended.

"I can't see either of you getting on well with any girls." Jason joined in, glancing at both Tate and Jared.

"He gets on well with me." Maisie interrupted, acting suddenly brash and defensive. She had stood up from her seat, glaring at Jason as if he had directly insulted her. They all looked at her, bewildered.

"Maisie…" Jared tried to say, grabbing her arm and attempting to pull her down into her seat.

"Jared is my friend!" She insisted, clenching her fist.

They continued to look at her. In fact the rest of the room were looking at her. It was only a few seconds later that she realised this, and quickly her unprovoked anger turned to embarrassment.

From the far end of the room George Asher raised his glass of soda and pointed it in a mocking toast aimed at her. "Good for you, sweetheart!" He hollered, cruelly.

"Sit down." Jared whispered to her, tugging at her arm.

Slowly Maisie sat down, and buried her face in the table. She shuddered a little. Everyone was still looking at her, everyone except Jared. He kindly put a hand on her shoulder as comfort.

"Okay then…" Mitchell said loudly, "What was that about?"

"Leave her alone." Jared warned him quietly. His gaze was fixed on George, not on Tate.

Aaren was surprised by Maisie's behaviour, but she was more surprised by his. He acted as if he understood what had set her off, but none of the others knew. There was nothing about that outburst that had made sense, so why was he not surprised by it? She remembered the discussion they had had upon the London wall the previous evening. Jared's relationship with Maisie was unusual, not like the relationship two friends would normally have. He admitted he liked her romantically, but apparently she didn't reciprocate that feeling. But then she had snapped in that way. So how did she feel about him? If she didn't love him then why was she so protective over him to the point where no one could even insult him without her getting upset? What was it about Jason's statement that had even set her off in the first place?

The room had fallen quiet now. Their table was the quietest of the three. None of them were quite sure how to react to Maisie's freak out, especially Maisie herself. She was attempting to fuse her face into the table cloth, not wanting to face any of them. Jared still had his hand on her shoulder. It was wandering slowly down, left, towards the back of her neck. That made Aaren unhappy. He was being too touchy. _'You're friends, mate. Keep your hands to yourself.'_ She thought, though only for an unconscious moment.

The void of silence that had overwhelmed the table was thankfully overshadowed by the entrance of Ravenhead and Silver Streak, both of whom were equipped in their recognisable hero attire. Ravenhead had a smile of eager excitement on his face, whereas Silver Streak was in his usual uninterested, indifferent mood. Sometimes Aaren wondered if anything ever made him happy.

"If you could all be ready and waiting by the front desk in ten minutes, Mr Jensen and I will explain the first activity for today. Don't keep us waiting or we might leave you behind." The avian hero explain.

"You heard the man." Mitchell stated eagerly. "Get your assed moving or you'll miss out."

* * *

It didn't take long for the class of twenty four under eighteen students to assemble, which was quite impressive and abnormal when you took into account the general personalities and attitudes of young adults. The few cleaners and caretakers who were working about the place, at the counter and in the adjacent rooms, didn't seem especially bothered by the number of students or the amount of noise they made. Perhaps they were used to this, or perhaps they were paid enough to ignore it all. Knowing where their class would be headed, Aaren had made the smart choice to wear her sports shorts and vest, with the addition of a coat to keep her body warm while outside and a pair of running shoes so that she didn't stand on any broken glass or metal that apparently littered the streets. The others had not quite been as smart. Some of them had done the same as her, but others were still wearing their everyday clothing. What moron went to the gym in a jacket and jeans? How were you meant to do any form of exercise in jeans?

It appeared that the senior students would not be joining their activity for the day. Apparently the two classes would mostly be doing different tasks during the week, though they would be brought together for a few events and they would obviously see each other in the mornings and evenings. The reason none of them had been around this morning was because they had apparently been given an extra hour to sleep in since their activity would take place a bit later in the day. 'Lucky bastards' Aaren thought. She hadn't slept to well. She hadn't wanted to say it at the table, but the boys had kept most of them awake due to their very audible arguing and snapping. At one point the floor had shaken because of one of the Andersons shouting about something. She had a good mind to force her shoe into his mouth for that.

When Ravenhead and Silver Streak were finally ready to get moving they stood in the doorway of the building and counted the heads of the student. Once they were satisfied that they had twenty four – and one ghost – they finally began to explain the events of the day.

"Good morning everyone. I hope you all slept well." Ravenhead said in his chirpy voice.

"We didn't." Payton muttered from somewhere between Jared, Tate and Jon.

"Before we get started with today's ordeals, I want to just quick say well done to each and every one of you for getting this far. Though it hasn't been easy, each and every one of you has made it through this term, though at times it may have seemed impossible. You all faced the combat exam, and then Criminal Apprehension exam and I firmly believe that each and every one of you truly gave your all." At that point Ravenhead raised a clenched fist of encouragement. "Though not all of you may have passed these exams it is no reason to fear for your future as heroes. Think instead of these losses as mistakes that must be learned from, and keep pushing forwards and strive to become better."

"Easy for him to say…" Lu murmured from a few heads to Aaren's right. "He didn't get feedback saying he 'didn't do much to help his teammates'."

"And yet I would also like to say… thank you…" Continued Ravenhead, sounding surprisingly overwhelmed by his own words. Aaren hadn't seen him speak this way before. She had always thought he came across as rather pompous and self-centred, but right now he sounded quite genuine. "Our academy is a new one, and as such it has a few flaws and faults that must be fixed over time. Yet your continuous hard work and effort has help us stay afloat, and has kept even us teachers motivated. It is thanks to all of you that Broadhurst Heroism Academy is making a name for itself, with you as its first students and, hopeful, its first heroes."

The class was quiet. The reason why was rather disheartening. After such a personal and from-the-heart speech as that, most of the students appeared nonplussed. A few of them were chatting with each other, waiting for it to end. Some were even laughing about something. Ravenhead managed to hide his disappointed expression from them, though for a moment it managed to slip out. Now it was Silver Streaks time to talk, which he did not often do, certainly not to a whole class like this.

"We will be taking you to visit one of the Hero Training Gymnasiums today." He explained, his arms folded tightly into his leather jacket. "You will be allowed to use the equipment while there, though only for an hour and only if you do not misbehave and use the available equipment safely. If I catch anyone doing anything stupid I will personally sit you on the time out bench myself and keep you there." He showed of one of his chains, which grew rigid tight as he held it. "No one is to wonder off while we are outside or inside the building, so no sneaking away into back alleys or restricted areas. Remember; Scarow is called the most dangerous city in England for a reason. Even near the wall you are to be cautious and to stick together. If, for any reason, you are separated from the group and cannot see either myself of Mr. Victorsson you are to stay put and not move from where you are. We will come find you. Don't shout for us, not try to find us, just stand still and raise your arms up. If anyone you do not know should try to approach you simply warn them that you are trainee heroes. If they continue to approach shout out the name of the first hero you can think of and then run. Does everybody understand?"

Forty eight eyes and two mistral eyes all blinked at once.

"A question, Mr Jensen?" Said the quiet yet vibrant voice of Melanie Yarrow, her hand raising up above the heads of the class.

"Yes, Melanie?"

"Why are Mr Morse and Mr Mikhaelov not with us?" She asked, her Scottish enunciation exaggerating the 'Mor' in 'Morse' into _Moor_ and the 'Mik' in 'Mikhaelov' into _Mac_.

"Mr Mikhaelov and I have swapped our rolls for today's activity." Peter Jensen Jr explained just as rigidly as he had warned. "He will be assisting Ms Osborne and Class Senior while I will managing your class and the activities which you partake in. As for Mr Morse, he is currently not with us as he has other matters to deal with this morning, though he will meet us at the site shortly." He looked down his nose at the class. "Now, if that's all the questions you have to ask, and since I didn't get a response last time…" He raised his head. "Does… Everyone… Understand?!" Silver Streak repeated, almost shouting the words.

"Yes, sir!" The class said in unison. They were all practically standing to attention.

Aaren had never felt like honouring any man in the way a soldier honoured a sergeant or a captain, but somehow Silver Streak had struck that feeling into her. She grabbed her hand and tried not to salute.

She noticed that Ravenhead was looking at his colleague, just as surprised as his students were at that full length explanation. Something about the way he stared suggested he had not known that his fellow hero would speak in that way.

"Well then, if we're all ready to go." He said with a weak cough. He stepped back onto the black doormat, and the glass doors slid upon with awkward squeaks.

Despite Silver Streak's warnings about getting lost and confronting unknown individuals, the journey from the hostel to the gymnasium was surprisingly uneventful. Apart from the usual idiots of the class being… well, idiots, there was nothing that happened at all. It was raining, that was the most that Aaren would remember. She was glad now that she had worn a coat. Besides that there was just the City of Scarow, its people, its traffic, its streets and its buildings. Nothing really worth talking about.

She tried to start another conversation with Jared, but he seemed unusual out of it. Sleep deprivation was apparently having an effect on him, though he had woken up a bit more after breakfast. The others weren't much more talkative than he was. They talked a little about their Criminal Apprehension Exam results, which they had received a few days before they went through the wall. Most people had passed, though not all of them were especially happy with their overall grade. It was understandable that they would be annoyed that they didn't do as well as they had hoped, but surely a pass was something to celebrate. Instead everyone seemed quite down. This could very well be because of the weather, though. Rain in a drab and disgusting city like Scarow set a very sombre mood, even if this was supposed to be one of the 'nicer' districts. Aaren felt like she was walking to a funeral, only most of the class were not wearing black. A little conversation would have helped change that, but no one seemed especially keen right now.

They walked for about fifteen minutes, down waterlogged roads and along shattered stone streets. Drains were beginning to flood and push water back up through them to form small fountains at the edges of the street. With every minute the rain fall harder, faster, more frequently, till it stung the skin as it hit. Somehow the rain on the other side of the wall felt much nicer than this. Logically Aaren reasoned that it was simply the mood she was in, and that the weather would be just as bad in Galafrei right now. Unfortunately the logical parts of the human brain do not often hold quite as strong a grip upon the psyche as the illogical parts. Of course Scarow would have awful weather. That made far too much sense. Any second now someone would be struck by lightning.

That did not end up happening.

What did happen was half the class got soaked in water when a joyrider passed by in a shiny new car and steered purposefully through a puddle that they could have easily avoided. Now the mood seemed especially more sombre, especially with Silver Streak yelling inappropriate expletives at the now vanishing vehicle.

Aaren was very grateful to reach the gymnasium. She had never seen a building quite like it. It stood out like a healthy tooth in the mouth of an octogenarian amongst the usual buildings of Scarow. Though it consisted of only one floor, that floor was very, very tall and very, very wide. It appeared to be made of a shiny, smooth material; possibly stone, possibly an odd sort of concrete, at the very least something Aaren didn't know the name of. It had large windows all tinted black, pillars of carved stone between each. And right above the massive glass doors was a flag, not the Union Jack as Aaren may have expected but the a dark purple flag with the symbol of the Hero Movement; a Golden Greek Alpha within a Black Greek Omega, with shimmering silver detail around the edges. It made sense that they would choose Greek letters for an organisation founded by a man named after a famous Greek hero. The two teachers were looking up at the flag. Intriguingly they had expressions opposite to what Aaren may have expected. Silver Streak looked up at the purple cloth with a strange pride, while Ravenhead seemed to be lamenting something.

"I am Alpha and Omega." She heard Mr Jensen muttered to himself. Ravenhead glanced at him for a moment, only to turn around and face the students instead.

"Alright." He announced, quickly hiding the passing lament that had been on his face from the view of his students. Aaren wondered if any of the others had seen it. Probably not, she realised. Most of them had been looking up at the flag as well. "Do we have everyone?" He started counting heads, his talons dancing in the air as he looked from student to student. "All present and correct." He concluded a few seconds later. "Right then, once Mr. Morse arrives we can get on with the first activity of the day."

"Perhaps we should get them out of the rain first." Silver Streak suggested, showing an apparent – if minute – caring side to his personality.

"I think they can stand a bit of rain." Ravenhead reasoned. "After all, we heroes work during all weathers."

"You won't be saying that when they're suffering from hypothermia and we have to end this trip early." Silver Streak said, his thick eyebrows wrinkling.

Ravenhead's beak twitched slightly. "Good point." He said a second later. He looked back at his students. "Everyone, get underneath the entrance for now. Don't go inside just yet. We still need to wait for Mr. Morse to arrive."

And so the Class Junior students of Broadhurst Heroism Academy waited at the front of the Hero Training Gymnasium, underneath a stone archway held up by stone pillars as rain poured down over their heads. They waited for some time, about ten to fifteen minutes, for their missing teacher to arrive. None of the students were sure as to where Mr Morse was or why he was late, or why he hadn't been there that morning in the first place. The only option they had at that moment was to wait for him to arrive.

"This is so boring." Tate groaned. "Can't we just go inside already?"

"Have patience." Ravenhead reassured him. "He won't be far away now."

"Why do we even have to wait for him?" Mitchell asked, agreeing with his brother.

"It's common courtesy." Ravenhead explained. "It would be disrespectful if we were to start without him."

"We don't even know what we're starting yet." Tate continued. "You could at least explain that part, or else we're just going to be standing out here like a bunch of lemons."

"Lemons?" Payton repeated, chuckling with bewilderment.

"You know, it's a slang term for idiots."

"Sounds like you made it up." Lu told him, attempting to start a fight in order to dissolve some amount of boredom.

"I didn't make nothing up!" Tate snapped at him. "You're made up!"

"Your insults really are getting worse." George chuckled from behind them.

Tate turned on him. "At least my bite isn't as bad as my bark!" He snapped in an attempt to be witty.

"That one didn't even make sense." George said maliciously, grinning mockingly at the twins.

Mitchel grabbed Tate's shoulder before he could march up to the dog-headed boy and start a fight. Tate eventually turned back around, folding his arms and looking grumpily ahead, not wanting to acknowledge any of the other students. "Sod the lot of you!" He huffed. "I'd rather be back at the hostel than with any of you anyway."

"You could always head back by yourself." Silver Streak spoke up now, finally done with listening to the Andersons ramble and complain.

Tate looked at him. "Huh?" He said, not sure if he had heard him right.

"If you're really that bored of waiting you could just walk back to the hostel right now. You know the way, don't you?" Silver Streak was looking Tate dead in the eye, his cold blue irises showing a worrying lack of emotion. "Though I don't imagine you'd want to do that. In a few minutes the Senior students will be leaving to take part in their activities, and the other teachers will be going with them too. You'll be left alone in a place you don't know, all by yourself, unless you count your brother of course. But that's assuming you even get there. Scarow is a dangerous city. With a group you'd probably be fine but by yourself… that's another story. Who knows what you might encounter on a dark, rainy day in a narrow, sinister street."

Tate had turned pale. Suddenly his argumentative, energetic and outlandish personality was sucked out of his body. He stood there, looking up at the black and silver haired teacher, as quiet as an abandoned city. Only after a couple of seconds had passed did he move, taking a step back and looking down at the floor. Right now it was tough to tell him and Mitchell apart. Both of them were pale, rigid and partially see-through.

"On second thoughts I'll stay here." Tate decided with a squeaking, meagre voice. "I wouldn't want to miss out on the gym anyway."

"I thought so." Silver Streak said with a slight hint of a smile. He had achieved what he set out to do it seemed. Aaren hadn't imagined that anyone could shut the Andersons up so effectively, but apparently both Niall Archer and Peter Jensen Jr could manage this, even if their methods were a little morally questionable.

"That was too far, Peter." Ravenhead muttered to his colleague. "You didn't need to scare him like that."

"Fear is a good way of controlling people." Silver Streak reasoned with no suggestion of morality. "There are many examples of this throughout history."

"Did your father teach you that?"

Silver Streak glanced sideways at the raven-headed hero. Aaren couldn't quite tell, but he looked offended. "It's what's kept him in the top five for the last forty years. How many heroes can say they've done that?"

"Most don't use his methods of heroism." Ravenhead reminded him. "Neither do they use yours."

"We all have a job to do." Silver Streak reminded him. "But some of us use different methods to do it."

Aaren was surprised by what she was hearing. She hadn't expected her teachers to be discussing what sounded like a personal matter when in the presence of their students. Though the others were not paying attention, she was and she had heard every word. She wasn't completely sure what their comments had meant, however. She knew already that Silver Streak was the son of an accomplished hero, just like Jared, and Jon in some respect, though it was his uncle who was the hero. Peter Jensen Senior had been the number three hero in Great Britain for about thirty five years. That was until about five years ago, when the heroine known as Obsidian entered the scene and took that position from him. Now he was the Number Four Hero in Great Britain, and apparently that angered him to no end. Though Aaren didn't exactly feel pity for him. I mean, what sort of a hero gives himself a boring name like _Plastic Man_?

The sound of an approaching vehicle suddenly filled her ears. She looked up. Around the corner came a police van with tinted windows, the sirens on the roof flashing yet making no noise. It stopped outside the gymnasium, and from the passenger's seat exited the recognisable form of Aries. It was not the sort of vehicle which Aaren had expected her teacher to arrive in. Mr. Morse had clarified on several occasions that he worked in close quarters with the police of both Galafrei and Scarow. He had not clarified that he would be arriving with them, however. Why were the police here anyway? Their class didn't need that much protection, did they?

"Fashionably late?" Silver Streak asked in jest as the horned hero approached.

"No, just had a bit of trouble getting the muzzle on our friend." Aries responded.

"So you actually brought him with you… to the same place as these kids?"

"I'll be keeping a close eye on him. He won't go anywhere without myself or these officers being present."

As Aries said this two police officers from the back of the van. Before the doors could close again Aaren spotted a large, shadowy figure still sat in the back, their hands upon their lap and their back abnormally hunched forwards. The officers immediately got to work undoing some sort of lock at the base of the vehicle. In each of their hands they held what looked to be a combination of a baton and a Taser. The tips were made of copper wire and hung from small straps from the officer's belts. It appeared that the weapons were currently switched off, otherwise they would have already electrocuted them both with the way they swung to and fro.

"Did Ty and Catherine come along?" Aries was asking Ravenhead.

"They did…" Ravenhead told him. "Though they were both rather reluctant.

"Good that they came along at least." Aries said with a small, secretive smile. He and his fellow teachers turned to the class. "Can we have all of your attention, please?" The horned hero bellowed, rain pouring down his hairy face.

"What's going on now?" Tate groaned as the class all turned to face their teachers, the boredom that had been on their faces now starting to fade.

"Before coming here we made it very clear to all of you that you would encounter real criminals during this trip." Aries continued, certain that he had their fullest attention now. "I'm sure you were all excited for that. But you won't just be catching and possibly fighting these individuals. You will also be studying them."

There was a groan from many mouths. Evidently the students of BHA had been hoping to relax and enjoy themselves this week, not spend their time studying as they already did at school.

"Damnit." Tate muttered. "We were waiting all that time for that?"

"We were only waiting for fifteen minutes." Freya reminded him.

Tate's cheeks turned salmon pink. "That's fifteen minutes too long." He said, then added with poor judgement "At least you get to sit down."

"Why do we have to study them?" Vikki Brail demanded with annoyance?

Aries quietly sighed, evidently disappointed that his students couldn't figure this out themselves. "Because, Victoria, the best way to catch anything is to understand it. Hunters have to learn how deer will behave in order to kill them before they flee. Fisherman have to learn where trout like to swarm and spawn in order to fill a net. The same goes for humans fighting other humans. If you can get into the mind of your opponent, understand how they behave, why they behave that way and what their goals are, you can predict how, when and where they will act next." He explained as he had done a few times before during their classes on Criminal Psychology. "You can, of course, not bother with any of this, but I guarantee you will be a very unpopular and ineffective hero if you do. Stopping a criminal or a villain is only half the battle. Understanding them is the other half."

From behind him the police van began to shake. The two offices grabbed it by the edges, attempted to stop it moving. It seemed that whoever was inside was now moving about. The officers were readying their Tasers.

"And so, for this reason, I have made agreements with the police to allow one known criminal who is currently on parole for good behaviour to join our class as an observer and a subject of study."

The class were looking more excited now.

"We're actually going to meet a real criminal?" Philip Keel said with nervous surprise.

"Sweet!" Tate exclaimed.

"Very Sweet!" Mitchell agreed.

"Is it safe for us to be around a criminal for this long?" Lavender asked uncertainly.

"Not completely safe," Aries explained with startling honestly, "though I can promise that he we are doing everything we can to make sure he cannot harm anyone. He will be in handcuffs the whole time, with two police officers and myself accompanying him no matter where he goes. In addition to this, the individual himself has agreed to wear a muzzle."

"A muzzle?" Jon mused.

"What is he, a dog?" Tate chuckled, and turned sharply on George Asher once more. "Perhaps he's a relative of yours.

George growled at him, his bald canine mouth curling and his wrinkled brow furrowing.

"Though I would suggest none of you get too close to him, just in case." Aries continued over the newly revitalized argument between Tate Anderson and George Asher. He turned to the officers still attempting to stop the police van from rocking. "You can bring him out now."

The officers nodded respectfully back at the hero, and with cautious yet steady arms they gripped the handles and pulled the two doors open.

At first it was tough to see the individual inside the vehicle, as the space was dark and shadowed. They appeared to be sat on a bench along the left interior wall, hunched forwards in a manner similar to many depictions of Quasimodo. The officers stepped up into the vehicle once more and approached the figure. The sound of several locks unlocking with reverberating metal clicks. A grateful grunt followed shortly after. Then the figure stood up. His head hit the roof of the vehicle, yet the individual didn't seem especially bothered by this.

The officers finally managed to get the passenger out of the police van, and once he was out in the clouded daylight and the rain Aaren could finally see him for who he was. She had never felt so startled in her life. From the depths of her body a primordial, primeval fear rose up. She could feel her muscles subconsciously seize up, and her legs began to shake ever so slightly. The man that had been brought before them, bound with metal and leather, was only half man. He had the body of a man, slightly above average height and above average build, but otherwise not so different from any middle aged adult male. Even the pale white and light grey skin colour was not especially unusual. The other half of him appeared to be aquatic in biology. See-through webbing hung between his sharp fingers, small fin-like protrusions stuck out of his lower arms, and a much larger dorsal fin grew out of his back. There was also a plastic ring full of oxygenated water around the man's neck, and through the water Aaren could see five narrow slits – gills – moving the water into and out of the figure's body.

But compared to his head the rest of his body was completely normal. Where a normal, round, pail, hairy human head was supposed to sit was instead a bulky, dark grey, completely bald, triangular skull. It had a pointed snout where the face ought to be, with two large black eyes sat on each side. What should have been a mouth was instead a large, wide, grinning jaw with two rows of big, serrated teeth inside.

This man was part shark, and not just any kind of shark either – A Great White!

It wasn't just Aaren that was shaken by the sight of the criminal either. The entire class seemed to be silently frozen. Not even the Andersons were speaking, and that in itself was a miracle. Something about this man had struck that same primeval fear into their hearts. Simply looking at him filled Aaren with the feeling that she was floating on open water, and unbeknownst to her this shark man was about to swim up from the depths and devour her. She had never been a fan of open water, partially because of that sensation, that fear. Perhaps it was because she had watched too many Hollywood movies.

"This man is Walter Thalassa." Aries said introductorily. "Though he is known more commonly by his villain name: _Megalodon_."

"Megalodon…" That very name made Aaren shiver. The biggest shark in recorded history, with a mouth capable of swallowing a fully grown man whole. Their teeth were about five times the size of a great whites. Thank god there were no sharks that large in the modern age. Something about sharks unnerved her in general. Not the harmless sharks like basking sharks and whale sharks, though basking sharks were a little unnerving in themselves. The actually dangerous ones, specifically great white sharks, always seemed to look so emotionless. They had the eyes of killers, so black and so sinister. That was until they attacked, when their eyes rolled over and became horrifically white.

Aaren shuddered and tried to push away the thoughts, but could not manage it. Not while a humanoid shark stood in front of her. The fact that he was wearing an orange Hawaiian shirt and beach shorts didn't make this better. Even the muzzle, which was made of adjustable leather straps, didn't do much to make her feel comfortable. _'Of course this man was a criminal'_ , she thought. _'I mean, he looks like one. How could anyone who looks like that not be?"_

"Mr Thalassa was once a member of a gang known as the Deep Reef who committed crimes in the Saturnine District here in Scarow." Aries was now explaining, as the criminal in mention sidled up beside him with the two guarding officers in tow. "I managed to capture him ten years ago while raiding his gang's headquarters, though he managed to leave me with a souvenir."

The hero lifted the sleeve of his right arm to reveal a circular bite mark around his shoulder. The wound was old but deep, and though none his body had actually been removed the part that was cut looked as if it was hanging on by only a few threads. Glancing momentarily at the criminal responsible for the wound, Aaren saw what appeared to be a smug, proud smile. It was tough to tell though, as the man appeared to always be smiling due to his carcharodonic features.

"He has since been sentenced to lifelong imprisonment due to multiple murders, murder attempts, assaults and mutilations. However, due to more recent good behaviour he had earned himself a short term of parole, though upon the grounds that he does so in my company and that he goes nowhere without me or his accompanying officers. So, for him, this is not just a chance to help educate the future hero generation but to also prove to me and the parole board that he is capable of changing his ways and becoming a law-abiding citizen."

The shark-headed criminal was currently picking his fingernails, which were covered in webbing and largely fused to his skin. He didn't seem to care at all about the students or about his parole. It was fortunate then that he had not decided to try and break free from his captors and attack her or any of her friends. Aaren had no doubt that he wanted to. _'How could a man like him change?'_ Aaren thought coldly. _'He probably likes killing people! He probably uses that large jaw of his to do it! He probably puts their heads in his mouth and bites down hard! He probably likes the taste!'_

For a moment there was silence, as the class looked at the reforming villain stood before them, mixing shock, fear and the repression of the urge to run away. The teachers didn't have much more to say either. Both Ravenhead and Silver Streak were looking at the criminal judgementally. Aries seemed to be preparing to say something, though he had not started speaking yet.

They were all a bit startled when the shark-headed criminal began to speak. He raised a cuffed hand, lifted a webbed thumb, and with a voice reminiscent of the ocean depths he stated loudly and confidently " 'Ello, 'ello, 'ello! 'ow are we all this mornin'?"

More silence escaped from mouths more full of shock. From somewhere at the back there was an effeminate whimper, which had apparently come from one of the boys.

"We should probably get them all inside now." Ravenhead suggested to his colleagues. They both nodded in agreement. "Okay everyone, you can all enter the building now. If you could do so quietly and orderly as there are people working and training inside."

No one moved. Not one of the students made so much as a stumble or a twitch. They were all frozen to the spot, looking at Megalodon. Since no one else was prepared to take the first step, it appeared that the criminal would be the first.

He took a step forwards. Instantly the officers readied their Tasers, eyes fixed upon him. He looked back at them… and smiled.

Aaren couldn't continue to look at him any longer. She looked away, feeling so desperately a desire to run away, to get away from this abominable human. Was he even human? He was more shark than man, surely? Would it matter if he were caught in a net and killed for his fins to make a food product often considered a delicacy?

Once he was inside the building, led by the two officers who had been given the unfortunate and unwanted job of guarding him, the students finally started to move. They swarmed around the doorway, looking in through the glass, still able to see the terrifying individual that would now be present throughout their week.

"Bloody hell!" Tate and Mitchell stated at once, finally breaking the iceberg of silence. No one could content with that two word statement. No one could even bother to tell them to shut up.

"Whenever you all feel like moving…" Silver Streak stated with a more unfriendly voice than his two colleagues, "…we can actually start the first activity for today."

The students of Class Junior began filing in through the open doorway of the Hero Gymnasium. Aaren was at the back of the group, as far away as she could get from the shark… the great white.

* * *

 **Sorry if this chapter seems a little lackluster. I was hoping to feel more energized while writing this one but over the past few weeks I've been feeling exhausted. So sadly this chapter has suffered. But I wanted to get it out before the month ended so I knuckled down and finished it for all of you. I hope that at the very least it is an entertaining read.**


	35. Chapter 30 - Such Grand Heights

**Jared Wreath**

 _[November 24th]_

* * *

He could not have known how important the shark-headed man would be to his life. Most people do not tend to know who will affect their life most upon their first meeting. But though he couldn't have realised just how much the reforming villain would change his life, Jared Wreath had a sense that the world he knew was about to expand… and not all of what he learned would be good.

But he didn't think much about it now. His attention was more focused upon the massive gymnasium, which he and his friends had just walked inside. They had needed to pass through a reception first, where an overly chipper man in a blue polo shirt and shorts greeted them.

"Morning everyone. My name's Gavin and I'm one of the fitness instructors here. I will be here to make sure you are all safely using the equipment and provide assistance or advice if need or requested."

None of the students gave him a response, other than the looks of disapproval for hit exaggerated excitement which they all found annoying. It seemed that Gavin hadn't expected to be supervising a group of tired and rain soaked teenagers, and his falsely jovial tone was not being approved of. Thankfully he gave up on that nonsense and funnelled them all onwards.

They were then split off into gender appropriate changing rooms, both of which were apparently empty before they arrived. Almost none of the students used them, as almost none of them had planned to change their clothes. Finally there was a single door at the end of both changing rooms, which opened out into a massive, echoing structure. It was here that the class reunited.

There were gasps all around as the students of Class Junior saw what lay inside. Structurally the building was not so different from the Combat Dome where they had taken their first physical exam. The only major difference was that the gymnasium was made of concrete and was rectangular in shape. The interior of this building was far different however. While the dome had been mostly barren save for the one small room with screens to watch the participating students on, the gymnasium had barely enough space to walk in between the different available options. At merely a first glance Jared had spotted a large looping running track, a long and deviating assault course, a swimming pool of a rather extensive depth, a collection of treadmills and rowing machines and weightlifting devices that filled up almost an eighth of the building, and climbing wall that almost touched the clouds, around a thousand dumbbells of different weight and colour, and bizarrely enough, a sauna. There was enough equipment here to train an army. All it needed was an aggressive sergeant shouting orders at them.

"This place is used by heroes from the lowest rank to the highest, all of whom need a place to practice and train in order to stay in tiptop shape." Explained Gavin the fitness instructor, who looked impressively out of place with his skinny arms and stick-like body shape. "Each area of the gym is set out for a specific type of training. At the far end we have fitness machines for boosting stamina and strength, the climbing wall if for grip strength and footing training, the running track is for speed and endurance training, the obstacle course is for manoeuvrability and parkour training, the pool is for aquatic training and the sauna is for body care and muscle relaxation. You are welcome to use any of the devises you wish, though do please follow the instructions and warning upon the signs by each. Please don't wander out of the gym unless I or one of your teachers give you permission. Bathrooms are located inside the changing rooms, just beside the door." He paused to think. "And I think that's everything, unless your teachers have anything to-"

Silver Streak pushed the skinny man aside, standing before the class of teenage students with his chest extending and his back straight.

"Hopefully you all remembered what I told you before we left." He stated in a voice very much befitting of a military sergeant, though somehow less warm and cuddly. "This is a government owned building meant for hero training uses only, and you shall all treat it with respect. We have an impression that we must set. There will be no mischief, no trouble, no nonsense. If I catch any foolish behaviour or misuse of equipment I will not hesitate to remove you from the building myself-STOP RIGHT THERE!"

His sudden shout make the room shake, as its echoes rebound of the walls and hit the ears once more. Tate and Mitchell Anderson stood motionless in mid step, petrified into lifelike statues. They turned around slowly and gave their teachers a harmless smile.

"What did we do, sir?" Tate asked, trying to look innocent. It was not easy for him, as there were few occasions where he ever actually was innocent.

"Where were you going?" Silver Streak continued, not buying their attempts to pretend they were not up to mischief. "I didn't say you could go yet."

"We thought you were finished, sir." Mitchell responded.

The entire class looked away, knowing that a slaughter was about to occur. They did not usually have Silver Streak as a teacher, but they had all seen one of his outbursts before, or heard stories from the Senior students. Some of them had been the victims of such attacks already. There was nothing they could do to save Tate and Mitchell. All they could do was look away, pretend that it wasn't happening and try very hard not to laugh.

"I will say when I am finished!" Declared the silver streaked man, glaring with eyes that could melt steel beams. "You will leave when I tell you that you may! Do you understand that, Anderson?!"

"Yes, sir." Tate said meekly.

George snorted with his hand upon his mouth, but fortunately for him Silver Streak didn't notice or didn't care.

"You've already been troubling the other members of the class today, Anderson! Do you plan to continue troubling them, Anderson?!"

"No, sir."

Silver Streak turned on the ghostly twin, expecting a similar response.

"No, sir." Mitchell repeated.

"Okay…" Silver Streak continued to stare at them both for a few seconds longer. "I'll be keeping my eyes on you two. I warn you, if either of you so much as think about doing anything stupid I will know!"

"Yes, sir." The twins said.

Jared might have laughed at them if he hadn't been terrified of the consequences that would come from it. He couldn't stand Peter Jensen Junior for two reasons. First he was not an especially likeable man, and secondly he was not an especially kind man. He had an anger that make the strongest men feel intimidated, even though he was a rather skinny person lacking much muscle. His shouts were comparable to Dubstep's, only he didn't need a Quirk to reach such a volume. Most people would rather face a furious mother grizzly bear than face him. But while Jared was afraid of that sharp and unpredictable rage, it was not fear that made him dislike the hero known as Silver Streak. It was the way he had treated him at their first meeting, and the way he continued to treat him. On the rare occasions where Silver Streak had been with their class or in Jared's proximity, he had paid little to no attention to he, and on the one occasion he did he looked at him as if he was scum scraped from the bottom of a pond. He didn't even answer the question Jared had been trying to ask, he just looked at him and moved on. That was what Jared disliked the most. He hated how he looked at him… as if he was nothing!

There had been plenty of people who had looked at him that way, people who looked down upon someone because they were not born exactly the same as them, but none of them did it the way he did. Their glances were of ignorance and learned dislike. Silver Streak had a real malice in his gaze. And as Jared turned around once the Andersons' thrashing was over, for a moment his eyes met with his teacher's. He saw that gaze again, that look of distaste and vicious hatred. Jared did not continue to stare, he averted his eyes quickly again. Part of him wondered what made Silver Streak hate him so much, but that same part also doubted he would like the answer.

The other teachers were looking at their angry colleague, partially surprised but not especially. The fitness instructor seemed very startled however. He was still covering his ears. It appeared he wouldn't be doing much instructing for a short while, at least not until the ringing stopped.

"Remember everyone, you have one hour here." Ravenhead spoke up, continued on from where Silver Streak had been heading before he was diverted off course by Tate and Mitchell. "This time is your own and you can use it however you wish. You do not have to use all of the equipment, or any of it if you simply wish to sit out and watch, but I would suggest you take this opportunity to improve your bodies a little. Just remember to stay inside the gymnasium and don't go wandering off into any restricted areas, and be careful you don't hurt any of your fellow students while using any of the equipment."

The class all looked at him patiently with puppy-like expressions. He turned to Aries, who rolled his shoulders.

"Okay then." Ravenhead declared. "Your hour starts now. Go and enjoy yourselves!"

There was a cheer from the students, all of whom were glad to finally start their activities for the week. Jared could feel his blood flowing through his veins, his heartbeat rising, his body heating up. Adrenaline started to flood his body. He was excited to finally start using hero training equipment.

The question now was what to do first? He couldn't use the pool, unless he was comfortable walking back to the hostel in wet clothes, which he was not. Everything else was a viable option though.

"Dude, assault course!" Tate declared, hopping from foot to foot at the sight of the long course of hurdles, ropes, nets, bars, planks and bridges that was laid out along the left side wall. "I love these things. There used to be one at the park nearby my house. They took it apart a few years ago because some kid broke his leg or something, but it was the bomb!"

"I bet I can beat you to the end of it!" Freya stated with similar excitement.

Tate scoffed at her. "How? You can't walk."

"Then what reason do you have to doubt you'll win." She said cockily. "And if you do win, I'll give you ten pounds."

"You're on, Wheels!" Tate said, shaking hands with the disabled girl to clarify that the bet was official.

"If I'd known there was a swimming pool here I would've brought my trunks." Payton muttered in annoyed excitement to Jared's right.

"Can you even swim with wings like that on your back?" Jon asked out of curiosity.

"Yeah." Payton said, flexing the thin membranes expanding out of his spine. "I'm a master at the butterfly stroke."

"Don't moths lose the ability to fly when they're wet?" Aaren inquired.

"Moths do…" Payton agreed, "…but I'm not full moth. I'm only part moth."

"Oh." Aaren said, as if that clarified all her concerns. In truth she was still very confused and his answer had done little to resolve that.

"I'm headed for the weight lifting stuff." Jon told them. "I need to build up the muscle in my legs more."

"I'll catch up with you guys later." Jared told them with a waving gesture. "Right now I have to watch how this bet between Freya and Tate turns out."

The four friends laughed about that.

"Somehow I feel Tate's going to win." Payton said.

"You don't know Freya that well, then." Jon said. "Chances are she'll destroy the whole course before she lets Tate out-speed here. Being restricted to a wheelchair means nothing to her."

"I know she's really strong," Payton said. "But that doesn't mean she's fast as well."

"You weren't in our group during the CAE. You didn't see her in action. She did most of the work for us." Jon told him with wide, serious eyes.

"You'd better hurry up and join them, Jay. Looks like they're about to set off." Aaren interrupted suddenly.

Jared turned to look at the entrance to the assault course. Indeed the two Anderson brothers and the one physically challenged girl were set up to begin a race. Jared had only been planning to watch, but perhaps it would be fun to take part as well. He wouldn't win, but that didn't matter. It would at least get him started for the week and hopefully do a little to improve his body.

"I'll catch up with you guys in a bit." He told them, and hurried over to the white line that marked the beginning of the course.

He had not taken much of a look at the course before deciding to traverse it, though he wished he had. Now that he was taking in the total length of the course and witnessing the extreme extents it required to complete it he was starting to feel much less confident. He had originally thought that the course was made mostly of wood or foam, but on closer inspection that only a few parts had such material. Most of its segments were made with steel or concrete. His stomach suddenly felt heavier. But he could hardly change his mind now, not without looking like a coward in front of his friends. He swallowed to keep down his anxiety and steeled his nerves. It probably wasn't as bad as it looked.

"Look who's come to join us." Mitchell said, spotting Jared before the other two. "Here to lose to us?"

"Not on your life." Jared retorted. He wasn't going to lose to the Andersons, not today.

"It's you who should be prepared to lose." Freya told them with a boastful and enthusiastic grin.

The brothers returned it with their own manner of smile, though Jared found it much less inspiring than Freya's.

"Right back at ya, girl!" Tate said, arching his back and bending his legs in an attempt to stretch. "Okay then, shall we…"

He paused. Someone else had just joined them. Stepping between the two brothers and Jared, stretching his legs behind him with the assistance of his arm; Jason Jones had joined the race.

"You too?" Mitchell groaned.

"Don't mind, do you?" Jason asked rhetorically. "This looked like it would be fun."

"By all means." Freya gestured kindly. "Though you're also going to lose."

Jason laughed quietly. It seemed he disagreed. Jared was proud of him. He was attempting to be social with the others, and was also being polite and kind in turn. This was far different to his normal behaviour, where he would push others out of them way and insult them if they tried to argue or stop him. He was changing into a much more likable young man. Perhaps he and Jared could become proper friends some day.

"Ready everyone?" Tate shouted.

"Ready!" Jared and Freya shouted back. Jason gave a small grunt as his response.

"Go!"

Jared set of towards the first obstacle; a wall made of grey concrete bricks, at least two metres tall. Jared could tell just at a glance that he wasn't as tall was the wall was, if only by a hair's length. Fortunately he could reach his hands over it, allowing him to grab onto the top. It wasn't especially thick, made of only one layer of brick. But already he was facing a problem. He didn't have the grip strength or upper body strength to lift himself over. He could drag himself over slightly using his feet to push, but his soles had little grip against it's the slippery surface.

This first obstacle was not much of an issue for the others however. Jason was the first over. His quirk helped with that. He shot over the top of the structure with a burst of air from his bare feet, and landed on the other side within only a second. Freya was next, tilting her chair forwards so that she landed on her hands, then pushing off and sending herself almost three feet into the air, and then arced back down onto the other side. Tate took a bit longer to cross over, though unlike Jared he had Mitchell to help him. His ghostly brother offered him his cupped hands on which Tate placed a foot and pushed himself up onto the wall. Before sliding down the other side he turned back to Jared.

"Need a hand?" he asked, offering him one. Jared looked at it… but before he could even consider taking it Tate pulled it away again and stuck out his tongue. "Tough!" He exclaimed, and jumped down to the other side. Mitchell followed him, passing through the wall as if it wasn't there.

Jared growled. Already he was miles behind. He kicked the wall, which did him no go. In fact it made his toes throb for a whole minute. But he didn't give up, not so soon after starting. He jumped up, grabbed the top of the wall, managed to slide an elbow over, and attempted to climb again. He almost slid off once more, but he tucked his feet up and pushed them in, lodging him in place. Then, with a slow much efficient swing of his extending torso, he pulled himself over the wall. This had taken him forty five seconds. The others had already passed the second obstacle and were now on the third.

The challenge ahead was much simpler; a series of raised platforms that he would have to jump to. Jared managed this one easily, though he was still slower than the others. Looking ahead he could see that Jason was still far in the lead, but now Tate had managed to pass Freya.

The third obstacle was a series of hurdles, though unlike normal sports hurdles these were a little taller and slightly concave towards the centre. Some of them were walls, just like the one Jared had struggled to scale, only these ones were about half the height of the previous one so Jared wouldn't struggle in climbing them. He took a bit longer to get past this obstacle than he did the last one, but now he was beginning to regain his confidence and build-up speed. He was beginning to catch up.

The fourth obstacle was a narrow tunnel with a five foot wall surrounding it. Evidently they were not supposed to try and go around it. It looked just large enough for a healthy weight person to crawl through, and though Jared was only sixteen and therefore not fully grown he wasn't completely sure that he would fit. He was not quite healthy weight yet, though he wasn't too far off thanks to the last few months of continuous training. He couldn't let that concern stop him, though. He lowered himself onto his stomach and crawled into the tunnel. He was indeed able to fit, though that didn't stop him from feeling claustrophobic. He had never really had such fears before, but he supposed anyone faced with such a tight fit through such a long tunnel would start to get concerned. Regardless of his fear, he managed to crawl through the tunnel and make it out the other side.

Due to the narrow tunnel and the large wall blocking his view ahead, he hadn't realised how close he was to the others, or what was waiting ahead on the course. He was closer than he had expected to the end, but ahead go him sat four other obstacles. Jason was beginning the sixth obstacle, Tate was quickly catching up to him, but far behind, still struggling with the fifth, was Freya. The obstacle she was struggling with was a large convex pit, over which hung three separate ropes from a sturdy steel bar. They were just long enough for Jared to reach, but Freya was not so fortunate. Because he needed to crawl through the previous object to get through she had been forced to throw her wheelchair over the wall. Sadly it had landed inside the pit, and she had no way of getting to it without getting stuck. She could not crawl out of it with her hands, or drive up it on her wheels. So she was stuck.

"Bugger!" She exclaimed, thumping the floor and leaving a small crack.

"Can I do anything to help?" Jared asked.

Freya looked at him, then back down at her abandoned wheelchair. "I'd be really grateful if you could get that for me." She said.

"Couldn't I just help you grab one of the ropes?" Jared asked.

"No, you needn't worry about that. Just get me my wheelchair and I'll be alright." She said with a smile.

Jared shrugged. If that was all she wanted then fine. First he would have to get across himself, and then see if he could reach it from the other side.

He took a few steps back and made a run for the end, leaping forwards with his arms out. He grabbed the middle rope and affixed it between his legs and against his torso, holding on tight. The rope was slippery, and with each centimetre he lost sliding down it he burned the palms of his hands and the sides of his legs. Biting his lip in pain, Jared attempted to swing. In concept it wasn't too difficult to understand the physics behind swinging on a rope, but in practice it was much more challenging. You had to keep your grip at all times and adjust your weight so that you would move back and forth without sliding further down the rope or risking letting go, and beyond that you needed the strength to launch yourself off the rope once you were near the other side. Letting go wouldn't get you very far in itself. Videogames made it seem so much easier.

Jared managed to get across on his first attempt, though just barely. He nearly let go while swinging and almost hurtled head first into the pit beneath him. He landed on his knees and elbows, feeling the joints compress and hearing a worrying pop. Fortunately he hadn't broken or dislodged anything, but it had hurt quite a bit. He slowly pushed himself up, and turned around to see Freya cheering for him.

"Great!" She called. "Now, get my wheelchair!"

Jared winced. For a split second he considered moving on and leaving her… but doing that didn't feel right. That was hardly heroic of him. Besides, he couldn't do something like that to a friend.

He knelt down once more, groaning with pain as he did so, and lay himself slightly over the edge of the pit. It wasn't so deep that he couldn't reach the bottom, but the edges were steep and would have been difficult to scale if he had fallen into it. The wheelchair lay on its side at the base, though one of its arms was facing Jared. If he could catch it with the tip of his fingers he could pull it towards him and then pick it up. He did manage this, though it took a minute of straining. Eventually he had his fingers around the arm of the wheelchair, and with a strong pull he lifted it over the edge of the pit. He looked back up at Freya.

She wasn't there.

"Nice work, Jared." Said a voice beside him. He looked over.

"Wha-?" He exclaimed, seeing Freya lying on her front next to him.

"That was really helpful, thank you." She said, continuing to smile.

"When did you get across?" He asked.

"While you were trying to grab my wheelchair." She explained. "You were right, I could reach the ropes myself, but thanks to you I can now catch up with the others again."

She lifted herself onto her wheelchair, blanket folding over her withered legs. Jared was still staring in shock.

"Cheers!" She said, and with a sharp turn of her wheels she sped off towards the next obstacle.

Jared stared after her, perplexed. His brain wasn't quite able to understand what had just happened to him. Had he just been outwitted by a crippled girl?

"You crafty bitch!" He muttered, both impressed and infuriated. He could hardly let her get away with that. He was up onto his feet again in a few seconds, ignoring the pain in his toes and knees, and gave chase after the other three students.

The sixth obstacle was a set of monkey bars, only unlike the kind you might find at a children's outdoor adventure playground these ones had larger distances between each rung and some of the rungs were split in half, as if they had been broken off. Jared had never been especially good as monkey bars, due to a mixture of poor grip strength and excessive body weight. But he would push himself and climb across in order to reach the end of the track. Freya was ahead of him, and just ahead of her were Tate and Mitchel. Jason however was far beyond them. In fact he was at the final obstacle already. He had used his Quirk to launch himself past each obstacle –with the only exception being the tunnel which he had been forced to crawl through like everyone else. There wasn't much to suggest that he had to use the bars in order pass the obstacle, nothing other than the steel wall that sat at the end of it which could only be reached by climbing them.

It took him two minute to pass the sixth obstacle. By that point Jason had finished, Tate was starting the eighth obstacle and Freya was making her way to the seventh. He couldn't come first anyone, but that hadn't bother him to begin with. He wasn't aiming to win. He just wanted to do his best. But having experienced the last six obstacles, the mocking hand Tate had offered him, the trick Freya had played on him and the overall exhaustion he was starting to feel, he wanted to do a little better than his best. He wanted to get to the end before at least one of them. Whether it was Tate or Freya didn't matter to him, but he didn't want to come last any more.

The seventh obstacle was a set of narrow windows upon a tall brick wall. It seemed to mix the requirements of the first and fourth obstacles into one. As a result it wasn't so tough to overcome. It took a little climbing and a little squeezing, but Jared got through after only a few seconds of struggling. Freya passed through at the same time as him, and together – sharing a competitive glare before setting off – they headed for the final obstacle.

Tate was ahead of them, almost half way up, but now he was growing tired. He was attempting to scale a large forty-five degree angle wall made of small, narrow wood steps. Between each was a gap big enough to slide a foot through, and this seemed to be Tate's biggest problem. He currently had his right foot lodged between the twenty second step and his left foot lodged between the nineteenth step. This left his groin exposed to the gap between the twentieth and twenty first steps. Mitchell was trying to help him free himself, but it appeared his shoes were making this difficult. They were both shouting quite a bit.

Jared took a look at the final obstacle, and smiled to himself. He couldn't have asked for a better challenge in which to end their race. One of the practices Aaren had set up for him during their training periods together was climbing steps repeatedly. Though it had seemed menial to him at first, he had quickly come to realise how easily a person could be exhausted by simply walking up steps. That training had helped build up his stamina, and had made the prospect of climbing multiple flights of steps a little easier to face. It also meant that now he had an advantage over the others.

He took off up the steps, placing one foot in careful ahead of the others and quickly making progress up the slope. He reached Mitchell and Tate in a matter of seconds, with Freya not too far behind, using her hands to lift her lower half above her head. Jared paused for a moment to look at them. Tate was still trying to squeeze his feet out from the gaps, all the while shouting at him.

"Stop pulling! Stop!" He screamed at his ethereal brother. "Get underneath and push, for god's sake!"

Mitchell looked down at the ground beneath the slope of steps. "We're several metres of the ground." He said hurriedly. "I can't reach you from down there."

"Then reach your arms down and push them up from below." Tate continued to wail. He looked at Jared, noticing him watching them. "Don't laugh at me! This really hurts!"

Jared couldn't help but laugh. They both looked very silly, Tate doing the splits and Mitchell panicking about helping him up. Though Jared did pity them a little, he also knew that they deserved it as well.

"Need a hand?" He asked him, grinning sardonically.

Tate narrowed his eyes. "Oh, you bastard!" He growled. "Don't you do that back to me!"

"So ya, Tate." Jared waved a hand at the two brothers, and continued on up the slope. Freya was head of him, passing the finish line, but he didn't care about that.

"You son of a bitch!" Tate cursed, swinging in the air as he watched Jared run away. "Get back here, Wreath!"

Jared didn't listen to him. He was now descending the opposite side of the slope, hopping from step to step, avoiding the gaps carefully and quickly. The end was in sight. Just a short run and he would be done. He could hear Tate screaming in anger at him from behind, but it didn't matter. Jared sprinted towards the finish line. He had made it to the end, and this time he had not finished last.

Tate arrived five minutes later, walking awkwardly with marks around his bare ankles. He had been forced to remove his shoes, which now hung from his tired fingers. He looked furious.

"I believe I won our bet." Freya told him, grinning wryly.

Tate glared at her. "Sod off!" He muttered. "I don't remember betting on anything."

"Oh no, you don't get to wriggle out of this." Freya warned him, still smiling. "I said that if you won I would give you ten quid. I assumed that if you lost you would give me ten quid instead."

"I agreed to no such thing!" Tate insisted.

"You did, dude." Jared told him, inhaling slowly and deeply through his nose, holding his breath for several seconds, and exhaling slowly and deeply out his mouth. Aries had taught him that this would help lower his blood pressure and get more oxygen into his blood. It seemed to work. It certainly made him feel less tired.

"Bugger that!" Tate argued back. "I'm not giving her ten bloody quid! She didn't even win. He did." He gestured at Jason, who wasn't getting involved in the argument. In fact he didn't even seem interested in their argument.

"That may be true, but our best was that I would beat you, and I did." Freya extended a hand. "So pay up, you tightwad git!"

"It's only ten pounds." Jared told him. "Surely you can spare that much."

"I can," Tate said reluctantly "just not for her."

"Stop taking the piss already and give your girlfriend the money." Jason interrupted, growing annoyed.

Tate turned bright pink. "Girlfriend…?" He exclaimed. "What… her…?"

"Go on, Tate, give her the money." Jared teased, seeing an opportunity to get back at all of Tate's mocking comments in the past. "She won't give you a kiss if you don't."

"A kiss…?!" Tate seemed flustered and furious at the same time. He wasn't quite sure which the more valid emotion was.

"Okay boys, you don't have to fight over me." Freya murmured with an awkward smile. Tate was staring at her, and unusual for him his expression was unreadable. Finally he gave in.

"I'll pay you once we're back at the hostel." He said weakly.

"Yes!" Freya exclaimed. "I'll see you then…" She turned to leave, and then paused, only to smile mischievously at the brothers. "…darling!" she added in a teasing voice, and gave him a small wink.

Tate's face was a picture beyond description. Imagine if someone poured a whole tub of hot pink paint over the person in Edvard Munch's The Scream, and then added a few bulging blood vessels to the neck and forehead, moved the hands to the side and added a translucent copy of itself to its left. That was what Tate Mitchell looked like at that moment. Jared cursed himself for leaving his phone at the hostel, as now he had missed the opportunity to take a picture.

"Looks like someone's speechless for once." Jason muttered with amusement. He wasn't laughing as much as he once would have. In the past he would have mocked Tate extensively for a moment such as this and laughed for hours at his expense. Jared was not completely sure if this was good change, though it did appear to be. "Would never have guessed you had a think for wheelchairs."

Tate turned sharply on him. "You shut the hell up!" He snapped.

"Easy, lover boy." Jason continued, holding his hands up in mocking surrender. "Girls aren't impressed by violent men."

"I'm not in love with her!" Tate hissed.

"I didn't say that." Jason said back.

"You were implying it." He prodded a finger at Jason's chest. "Do not breathe a word of this to anyone else, got that you two? Not a word!"

"We promise." Jared said. He knew it was a lie, and he knew that Tate knew it was a lie, but what else could he say? How could he not tell the others? They would be laughing about this for weeks. He couldn't have imagined a better result for his race? He hadn't come last, and on top of that they had made Tate feel embarrassed.

He abandoned the assault course for now, as the other two set of to do their own things in separate places. Tate had been giving them both suspicious glances as he walked away. Jared was feeling exhausted after traversing so many obstacles, and spotting a vending machine near the entrance of the gym he decided to grab himself a drink.

He inserted a two pound coin into the machine and typed in a specific three digit code. One of the beverages slid out of its row and fell with a clunk into the tray. Jared reached his hand in and pulled out a cherry flavoured energy drink.

"Your heart won't thank you for that." A voice warned him from behind. He turned Aaren was stood there, a sweatband around her forehead and her shorts and vest tightly clenching her skin. It seemed that she too had been exerting herself today.

"I need the energy right now." Jared said, snapping the can open and letting the liquid slide into his mouth.

"You should have eaten something healthier this morning. A slice of grapefruit or honey on toast would have given you more energy than fried eggs and bacon." Aaren told him in her mothering voice. It was the sort of voice perfect for making Jared feel guilty about simply not thinking of how the food he ate would affect his body. She had a bizarre talent for making him feel like he had to do better. In that respect she was rather like a nagging wife.

"I'll do that tomorrow." He decided, unable to change the past.

"I'll make sure you do." She said. "I'm rather tired myself. Do you want to sit for a while?"

"Sure." Jared placed the now empty can in a nearby bit and zipped down his jacket. He slid it off and tied the arms around his waist. He had certainly picked the wrong clothes for exercising. His jeans were tight and uncomfortable and his shirt was soaked with sweat. It was his own fault for not bringing his normal sports clothes to the gym.

They sat down on a bench against the wall, watching as the other students continued to push themselves. It was impressive to see them all in action, putting effort into improving themselves, though Jared could tell that some of them were trying harder than others. He spotted Maisie on one of the treadmills at the far end of the room. Though she was not running at an especially fast speed it seemed she was already exhausted. Jared knew that she wasn't finding the regular exercise as easy as most of the others, but he was proud of her for trying. The fact that she was doing it was good enough for him. He didn't care if she was good, he just wanted her to be happy with what she managed to do.

"She's going well." Aaren spoke up suddenly.

"Hmm?" Said Jared.

Aaren gestured in Maisie's direction. She had noticed that he was watching her. "You don't need to worry about her so much. She might be nervous, but she can take care of herself."

"I know that." Jared told her. "I try not to."

"You don't have to coddle her."

"I know, Aaren."

They were quiet for a bit more.

"You were pretty impressive on the assault course." Aaren said after a while.

Jared chuckled awkwardly. "You saw that, huh?"

"I'm not mocking you, I was impressed." She continued. "You didn't come last. That's a big feat for you."

"I only beat Tate because he got his feet caught." Jared argued, attempting to find fault with his performance, as he always did.

"So what? That's still a victory." Aaren told him with the attitude of an opportunistic vulture. "Take advantage of your opponent's openings and weaknesses. They make for a quicker and easier victory."

"That wasn't a fight, Aaren. It was a race." Jared argued.

"The same rules apply." She argued back. "Someone has to win, someone has to lose. You do everything you can to make sure you are the winner, not the loser." She leaned back against the wall. "But regardless, you shouldn't be afraid of losing. A loss is just a sign that you can do better. Life would be boring if you won all the time."

"True." Jared reasoned, though he wondered if that was always the case. Surely some things would still be fun if you won all the time. "I'm not afraid of losing, I'm just tired of it." He explained. In the corner of his eye he saw the two police officers stood beside the criminal they had been ordered to guard. "Not like how you're scared of that criminal guy?" he said.

Aaren turned on him. "I'm not scared of him!" She insisted.

Jared was a little shocked by her reaction.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed. "I was just joking, Aaren, calm down!" He snickered, before adding "Don't bite my head off!"

Aaren narrowed her eyes and laughed with false amusement. "Very clever." She said sarkily. "And I'm not scared of him. He just… unnerves me."

"Isn't that the same as being scared of him?" Jared asked, unsarcastically.

"No!" Aaren insisted. "It's just… well, I've never really liked sharks. They… just look so… strange…"

"I get it." Jared said with a smile. "You watched Jaws when you were young."

"Shut up!" Aaren exclaimed, shoving him lightly. He laughed at her, and she couldn't help but laugh back. "You're not funny."

"I try to be." He said

"Try is the right word." She said.

Another pause.

"What is it that unnerves you about him?" He asked her.

Aaren signed, knowing that he wasn't going to stop asking simply because she told him to. "It's his eyes." She explained. "And his teeth… and his mouth… and his head… and his fins… and his hands… and his complexion… and his attitude… and pretty much everything else. I look at him and an army of alarm bells set of in my mind. I feel like I should get away from him as fast as I can."

"That's fear." Jared told her, unsympathetically. "That's what fear is like."

"I'm _not_ afraid of him!" Aaren insisted again.

"Okay." Jared gave in. "But that's not a problem. Everyone's afraid of something."

"I'm not!" Aaren went on, clenching her firsts and hitting them on the bench. "I've never been afraid of anything! I can't be afraid of anything! I won't let myself be."

Jared looked at her. She seemed unusually bothered by this, not by what she was afraid of but by the fact that she was scared in the first place. Why? Most people didn't react like that. They didn't get angry about being afraid, they just panicked because they were afraid. He had seen his sister react to spiders with blind panic, and while Petra the maid could handle them with little concern she was deathly terrified of bees and wasps, in fact anything yellow and with a stinger. Everyone was afraid of something, and that in itself was perfectly fine. But was it fine for Aaren to get so angry about it? He wasn't sure.

"Well, you don't need to worry about it right now." Jared reassured her. "He's under constant guard, so the chances of him getting close to any of us is very unlikely. Even if he tried he would be tackled to the ground before he could move an inch."

Aaren exhaled in an attempt to calm herself. "Yeah, you're right." She agreed. "Anyways, we've sat around long enough. What will you do next?"

"Dunno." Jared looked around the room. His legs were still feeling weak from traversing the assault course, but his arms were more or less ready to keep going. "Maybe the climbing wall." He decided. "I think Payton's over there right now. I might go and join him."

"Then maybe I'll come with you." Aaren suggested. "Perhaps we could race each other to the top?"

Jared thought about it. It would give him a chance to show her in person how much he had improved. "Alright, you're on."

"You won't win." She warned him with a small grin.

"I will!" He cheekily protested. "I'll be at the top before you've even gotten your foot on the first step."

Aaren shook her head, smiling and trying not to laugh at his ridiculous cockiness. "Even if, by some miracle, you _do_ beat me, what do you get from it? I doubt I'm the most capable climber in our class."

Jared pondered on it for a moment, but it didn't take him long to think of an answer. "If I win, you have to talk to the shark guy."

"Not happening!" Aaren blurted out, suddenly looking very stern and unnerved.

Jared laughed quietly. "You're that scared of him?"

"I'm not going near that serrated toothed freak!" She insisted.

"Alright then, how about you just make eye contact with him?"

Aaren shuddered but did not instantly protest. "Okay." She said weakly "You'd better make this worthwhile. What do I get if _I_ win?"

Jared smiled. "If you win, I will be your servant for a day."

Aaren's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You wouldn't do that." She laughed. "You'd rather die than be anyone's servant."

"I'll do it!" He insisted. "If you win, I will do whatever you ask me to do for a whole day. I won't complain or argue. I'll do whatever you say."

Aaren gave him a suspicious look. "Really?" She said out of the corner of her mouth.

"Scout's honour." Jared said, giving her the expected salute. He had never been in the scouts, or any of the groups that came before that level or experience, but he knew the salute thanks to modern media.

Aaren couldn't hold in her laughter. Though she clearly doubted that he would keep his word, she found the possibility too enticing. It made the risk seem more faceable.

"An entire day with Jared Wreath as my servant?" She mused to herself. Her smile spread across her face. "You have a deal."

They shook hands to seal the deal. Jared had not noticed before that, despite their worn-down and well-used look, Aaren's hands were actually rather soft. They were also rather sweaty, and he wiped his fingers on his shirt after shaking them.

"Let's not dawdle around any longer, then." Aaren declared with growing enthusiasm. "Let's get climbing."

Before they could start using the wall they had to go through a short explanation of the rules from one of the instructors who had been planted by the wall for safety purposes. He explained the functions of the harness, how to lock and unlock it, how to attach each of the hooks to the belt – of which there were four, all of an oval and clipper-like design – how to adjust the tightness of the belt, how to fall safely while attached to the harness without injuring your spine and what to do if you were afraid you would fall or wanted to come back down. Much of it had gone over Jared's head, though he had understood how to attack the hooks and affix the harness well enough to start climbing.

"On three, we go." Aaren told him, her own harness around her thin stomach.

"Okay." Jared said back, his harness replacing his jacket which had been left by the edge of the wall.

"Three… two… one… Go!"

Jared began to scramble upwards, grabbing a protruding red rock with each hand and hoisting himself upwards. The harness helped his ascension a little. It seemed to pull him upwards ever so slightly. He placed a leg on a green rock and pushed himself up further. He moved from coloured rock to coloured rock, scaling the wall quickly with lizard-like movements. Aaren was moving just as quickly, not wanting to let him out-speed her.

"Not so fast, guys!" The instructor called up to them. They heard him and slowed down a little, but did not stop the race. They continued on upwards, helmets scraping the side of the wall as they looked down at their feet and fingers growing raw with each rock they held on to.

Payton had indeed been climbing the wall when they decided to race each other. He was at the top already, hanging on to a pair of thin blue rocks. His head almost touched the roof of the building. Jared was about halfway up the wall. He looked down and realised how high up he was. He could see the entirety of the gymnasium from this high up. He started to feel motion sick as the ground beneath blurred and moved. Vertigo was setting in. He closed his eyes and looked up, trying to ignore how high up he was.

Eventually he reached the top, with Aaren in tow. He stopped only a few inches from hitting his head on the roof.

"Hey, Jared." Payton called across to him from where he hung. His wings dropped down from his back like a cloak.

"How's it going, Pate?" Jared called back.

"It's going good." Payton chuckled. "I'm hanging on, you know.

"Hahaha." Jared laughed, trying to avoid looking down and feeling sick.

"This is my third time up here." Payton told him.

Jared blinked. "Third?" He asked.

"Oh yeah, this is the best! I get to use my quirk in the way it's supposed to be used."

"How's that?" Jared asked.

"Notice anything different about my equipment?"

Jared looked at Payton a little more carefully. "You're not wearing a harness?!" He realised after a few seconds.

"Nope." Payton said with a smile.

"What if you fall?" Jared asked in panic that his friend would hurt himself.

Payton shook his head in amusement. "Jay, you've forgotten one major detail."

"What's that?" Jared asked.

Payton held his arms out wide. "I can fly!"

He let go of the wall and fell backwards towards the ground. Jared yelped in shock and almost reached out to stop him. But then he saw Payton's wings spread out wide like a curtain of grey and brown. With them he floated gently back down to the ground, landing safely and lightly on his feet upon the hard, cold gymnasium floor. He turned back, and bowed up at his friend. Jared rolled his eyes.

"Show off!" He called down.

"Don't you try and do anything funny." Aaren warned him. "If you fall from here you'll break your back, and probably a few other things too."

"I know." Jared droned. "We made it to the top at least."

"Yeah, and you made it first." Aaren realised.

Jared turned to her and gave her a small smile. "Listen, if you can meet eyes with the shark guy I'll go ahead and be your servant for a day."

Aaren looked back at him. "Why? You won."

"I don't care about that." Jared told her. "I'm asking you to do something that scares you. I wouldn't feel right forcing you to do that without having to do something similar myself."

Aaren smiled at him, at first seemed maliciously gleeful, but Jared noticed that there was a suggestion of gratitude there as well.

"You know I'm going to make you suffer, right?" She said.

"I know." Jared gave her a small bow. "I'm at your service, ma'am."

Aaren laughed at him. "Thank you very much, sir." She jested back. "Come on. We may as well head back down."

"Okay." Jared looked up at the harness. It was attached to a circular ring with a mechanical pulley just above the wall. If he let go then the pull was supposed to slowly lower him back to the ground. That meant that he didn't have to worry about climbing back down. So, doing what any eager and adrenaline filled teenager would do, he let go of the wall. He descended slowly for half a seconds… and then sharply stopped.

What the…!" He looked up. The harness wasn't moving. The mechanical pulley that was supposed to lower him had gotten stuck. He could see it juddering and shaking against the wall.

"Are you okay?" Aaren asked, descending past him.

He looked at her with sudden concern. "It's stuck!" He called to her. "It won't move."

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure!" Jared tugged on the harness, but still it didn't move."

"Is everything alright up there?" He heard the instructor call from far below.

"His harness is stuck!" Aaren called down to him. "He can't descend."

Though Jared couldn't see the instructed from his upward facing position, he could heard the panic in his voice.

"Okay, stay calm and don't move. Try and grab hold of the wall and stay there. I'll go round the back and see what the problem is."

"Stay there, Jared." Aaren called, her voice growing more distance by the second as she continued to descend. "Don't panic! We'll get you down!"

Jared was trying very hard not to panic. It wasn't easy. He was grateful that he wasn't able to look down at that moment. He might have vomited if he could. He was hanging in mid-air far above the ground, at such grand heights. How long would it take for them to get him down? Would he have to remove his harness? If he were to fall, would he survive?

From above he could see the mechanical pulley juddering harder, trying to eject the elastic rope attached to his harness. It shuddered more and more with each passing second. Would it break away? Would the rope snap? Panic was consuming him. He was trapped up here, with a fast descent and a sudden stop waiting below. People had died from falling from lower heights before.

"I'm going to try and loosen its grip on the harness." Came the voice of the instructor from above him. Jared couldn't see him as he was somewhere behind the wall, but he could see an arm reach up and begin tinkering with the device. "Just stay calm and don't move about, else I won't be able to fix it."

"Okay" Jared whimpered. He wanted to be out of this situation as soon as possible.

There was a further juddering, and then a sharp jolt. Slowly Jared began to descend down towards the ground once more.

"That did it!" The instructor declared in relief. "Alright, down you go!"

Jared relaxed a little, though he wouldn't feel totally safe until he reached the ground. He descended further and further, slower and slower… and then the pulley broke away from the wall!

Jared didn't have the time to scream. He wouldn't have been able to even if he tried. The air sped past him in a roar. Through it he could hear people screaming and shouting. The roof of the gym shot away from him. In one second it went from being a hand's reach away to being a horizon away. He felt gravity dragging him downwards. He saw the wall sliding upwards in front of him. He could only think of what was waiting below. The hard ground.

 _'Down you go!'_ He thought in horror. _'Down, down, down, towards the ground!'_

Most of what happened was blacked out by his memory, too traumatic to remember. All that he remember afterwards was falling. He didn't remember landing. He didn't remember anything that anyone said to him for several seconds afterwards. All he remembered was the first thing he saw. A face looking down upon him.

It was a grey face, with large black eyes and a mouth of many sharp, serrated teeth.

Jared screamed in shock, and threw himself from the arms of the criminal. What had happened? He had been in Megalodon's arms, held like a baby. He lay on the ground, looking up at the criminal in fear and shock and confusion. The criminal continued to smile at him, arms still where they had been.

A second later he was tackled to the ground by the two officers. They pinned him to the floor and tightly bound his arms behind him. One of them began prodding him in the back with his taser.

"Jared!" Aaren exclaimed, rushing over to him now that she was out of her harness and hugged him fearfully.

"Are you okay, dude?" Payton asked, rushing over to him as well, though he didn't hug Jared as Aaren had.

"What happened?" Jared muttered, blinking rapidly.

"I… I don't know!" Aaren admitted. "It happened so quickly."

"I don't think I could explain if I tried." Payton told him, looking just as shocked.

They both turned to the captured criminal, who was being lifted to his feet by the officers. They appeared to be telling him off for something. Past him ran Ravenhead and Aries, both looking horrified by what they had just witnessed.

"Jared, are you okay?" Ravenhead asked.

"I'm fine." He grunted, stumbling onto his feet.

"You're really lucky you didn't hurt yourself." Aries told him in his own manner of concern.

"What exactly happened?" Jared asked them.

The two teachers looked at him. "The pulley you were attached too broke away." Aries explained hesitantly. "You would have hit the ground… if he hadn't caught you."

Their eyes all turned towards the shark man who was being escorted out of the room by the officers. Jared stumbled backwards, holding his head. He couldn't quite get his head around it.

" _He_ save me?" He asked, bewildered.

"You should go sit down for a bit." Ravenhead told him comfortingly. "There's only ten minutes of our time left anyway. Don't worry about doing anything else."

Jared nodded obediently, his mind on other things. He wasn't sure what to think or how to feel. It didn't make sense. Why would that shark man save him like that? He was a criminal, wasn't he, a mass murderer. Why would he risk harming his parole in order to save him? Jared didn't have a conclusion for these answers. All he knew is that he could have died… if he had not been saved by that mass murdering shark.

* * *

 **I pulled an all nighter to bring you this. Ten hours I could have spent sleeping I instead spent on writing. So I hope this was worth it. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, thought that may have just been sleep deprivation making me lightheaded. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, its lighthearted and humorous majority and its frightening and tense minority. The next chapter will be following a new perspective from a character we already know but do not know much about. I'll get to that once I can, but right now I need a break. Goodnight everyone!**


	36. Chapter 31 - Home

**Catherine Griffiths**

 _[November 24th]_

* * *

She would never forget the horrors of that day; the day when she had lost control and taken someone's life. That moment would haunt her for the rest of her days. Since then she had doubted that she would ever get a chance to make amends, to return home and apologies for the pain she had brought her family and his. But while she had wanted that chance, she never expected to actually get it.

As the hour came to an end and the students were called back to the entrance of the gymnasium, she was quickly and quietly pulled away from the group by Aries. He had also grabbed Ty at the same time, and with the two of them stood in front of him their foster father began to pass on the news he had.

"The others are going to have a lunch break before moving on to their next activity for today..." He began. "However, since I doubt you two would enjoy it much, I have instead put together a separate opportunity for you both."

Catherine and Ty looked at him, confused.

"It's been a while since either of you went home." Aries said with a kind smile. "So, since we're in Scarow, I thought you might want to see your families for an hour or two."

Catherine was speechless. She would get to see her parents again. It had only been a few months since the incident, but that extent of time away from them had felt like a lifetime. There were many nights where she lay crying upon her bed, wishing she could go back to them and forget that it had happened. Now she would get to see her mother and father again. She would get to hug them and finally apologise for all the pain she had brought them.

Ty was also speechless, though not in the same way that she was. He seemed much less happy about this news. "I'm not going." He said quietly.

"Why?" Aries asked him.

"You know why." Ty responded. He didn't usually speak like this. Usually he didn't speak at all, but he had never said something with the intent to insult before. Catherine was confused as to what was upsetting him. Aries however seemed to understand completely.

"Well, whether you want to go home or not, I'm afraid you do have to come with us." Aries explained. "I can't leave you here unsupervised, certainly not with the other students. You understand, don't you?"

Ty nodded grudgingly.

"If you don't want to visit your family or your old home then I won't make you, but understand that if Catherine does then we will respect her choice and take her instead." He turned now to address Catherine directly. "I called your parents this morning to let them know we may be visiting them today. You understand that we can't stay long, and even if we do visit they might not want to see you. If at any point you don't feel like you want to be there just let me know and we'll leave immediately, okay?"

"Okay." Catherine repeated. She was excited to see her family again, but she was also terrified that they may not feel the same. She had left so suddenly after such an awful event. She didn't even know how they felt about the matter. Perhaps they hated her for what she had done. Even if they did, she couldn't let this chance go. She had to go back to them, apologise for her mistake, and let them know that she loved them.

So, while the rest of the class were gathering at the entrance of the gymnasium in front of the other two teachers, Aries lead his adopted children out of the building past them. Catherine noticed the other students looking at them, questioning where they were going and what they were doing. She tried not to meet their gazes, the staring making her uncomfortable. The police officers followed behind them, bringing the handcuffed prisoner along. Aries wasn't going to let him out of sight again. He had turned away for a second and turned back to see him sprinting towards one of the other students. There had been a lot of panic at that moment, especially from Catherine, as she had been sitting out on a bench near her teachers when the shark-headed criminal made a brake for it. Seeing the police officers suddenly start shouting and charge after the criminal had brought back difficult memories for her.

Outside the police van was waiting, its driver resting his eyes with his head against the window. It was still raining, and within the passing hour the downpour had grown stronger. Water was coagulating on the vehicle's windscreen. Aries knocked on the glass, startling the driver awake.

"Get it started." He instructed as the driver rolled down the window. "Take us to No.29 Redeemer's Street in the Adipose District."

"Are those kids coming with us?" The driver asked, looking down at Ty and Catherine.

"Yes. We're going to visit their families."

"Are you sure this is a wise decision, Sir?" Their police chauffeur inquired carefully. "Considering the district they're located in."

"We won't be there long." Aries reassured him.

The officer shuffled nervously in his seat. "There are also... rumours, sir." He said in a quiet voice. "Trouble's brewing in the city. There've been several reports of vigilante's acting out nearby."

"I doubt they'll trouble us." The horned hero continued, leaning against the driver's door. "Even if they do, I'll make sure they don't hurt anyone. Now get the engine going and we'll get this over with."

The driver nodded, and quickly turned on the ignition. Catherine had noticed that he was not keen to be doing this. The district in which her home sat was certainly not the best one in Scarow, but neither was it the worst. Had the crime rate increased since she had left?

The van roared into life. At the back the two guarding officers were opening the back doors and shoving the escorted criminal into the back.

"There's not enough room for you all up here." The driver told the hero, glancing at the two empty seats to his left.

"They can have those seats. I'll sit in the back." Aries said.

"Are you sure, sir?"

"He'll need an extra pair of eyes watching him anyway." Aries glanced back at the rear of the vehicle. Megalodon was currently being chained up to the far seat, with several locks and chains attaching his arms and feet to the metal cage around him. He didn't struggle at any point. "Hurry up and get inside, both of you."

Catherine did as she was told, taking the central seat at the front of the vehicle so that Ty could sit next to the door. He didn't like the feeling of being closed in, and regardless it was safer for everyone else if he wasn't so close to the driver. Catherine posed less of a direct threat to him, so he was more comfortable with her being next to him.

As she was adjusting her seat belt, a knock upon the metal wall behind her startled her.

"We're all set back here." Came Aries' reverberating voice.

"Okay, hold on!" The driver called back.

The vehicle suddenly kicked into live, jolting sharply forwards. If Catherine hadn't been strapped tightly into her seat she would have hit her head upon the dashboard. Thankfully the seatbelt had her held tightly in its grip. With a roar the van moved forwards, gaining speed and moving out of the parking area and onto the road. Through the side mirrors she could see their class leaving the gymnasium. Some of them were looking in her direction. She wondered what they would do next. Then her mind focused on the more looming concern; what would happen when she saw her parents again?

* * *

Half an hour later - the van pulled up at the side of the road, rain pouring in buckets down from the heavens. The droplets slid down the windscreen in clusters, blurring the glass, only to be shoved away by the sliding wipers. In the back she could hear the prisoner and his guards being shaken about, the chains and locks rattling. Thankfully she couldn't see through the small black window just above her head.

"We're here." The driver declared. He glanced back over his seat at the metal wall behind him. "Sir?"

"Go ahead and let her out." Aries called back.

Catherine looked out through the glass at the road ahead. A sign was planted into the grass by the pavement. _'Redeemer's Road'_. Several rows of small grey brick houses lined the road, bulging into a circle outlining a roundabout at its end. Her eyes focused upon one of the houses near the right edge of that circle. Upon its door was a number made of copper: _'29'_. That was her old home, her parent's home.

Ty had to leave the vehicle first in order for her to slide out from her seat. He wasn't especially happy to be soaked in rain, though facing the drear weather didn't bother her too much. Her many coats kept her very dry and warm. The moment she had squeezed past him out of the vehicle he was climbing back inside, shaking the rain out of his scruffy black hair and black plastic dress. Aries hopped out from the back, closing the doors behind him.

"Are you ready?" He asked her. She nodded.

He was about to speak again when something thudded against the rear doors of the van. The hero jolted, turning sharply around in instinctual action. Through the tinted window at the top of the door Catherine could faintly see light grey skin pressed against it, and within that skin a large, round, black eye that sharply rolled over to white.

"Hey, boss. Would ya mind lettin' me out for a spell? It's awful snug in 'ere. I ain't felt rain on me skin for yonks."

Aries relaxed slightly. He could see the two officers stood beside the criminal, restraining him. He wasn't attempting to break out, or they would have brought him down straight away. They were merely warning him right now. But while it seemed he wasn't planning to do anything aggressive, having such a dangerous individual so casually close to those doors was making all of them nervous.

"No." Aries stated sternly. "You were out in the rain earlier."

"That was only for a moment, and it was just a drizzle then." Megalodon argued. "C'mon, boss, let me 'ave a short moment outside."

"I said no." Aries repeated. "Not when you're so close to my students, not after what you did only an hour ago."

The criminal snorted through his narrow nostrils. The glass steamed up momentarily. "You heroes're so untrustin'."

"With good reason." Aries said quietly. He looked back at Catherine. She had her eyes fixed on the intimidating villain. His white eye was staring back at her. Slowly it rolled back over to black, and became invisible beyond the tinted glass. The officers yanked him away from the window, and he was gone from sight. So could hear him moving as the van shook beside her.

"Why is he here?" She asked now that the villainous great white was out of sight.

"It's my duty to watch over him." Aries explained to her, as he had done so several times before. "I can't leave him by himself for other people's safety."

"Why so you have to watch him?" She continued to probe. Rarely did her foster father every attempt to explain his actions, but more recently she had been curious as to what drove those choices. This decision especially mystified her, and she felt that she had to know why.

Aries sighed, shaking his head slightly. "You've faced enough pain in your life, Catherine." He said, seemingly off topic. "When I took you in, I promised you that I would help you overcome that pain. I made the same promise to Ty. I also promised that I would be honest with the both of you. However, my work entails matters that are not suitable for either of you just yet. If I were to explain any of it I would break both my promises. So for now I shall break only the one and hide the truth of this matter from you. I hope you can understand."

She didn't, but she nodded to suggest that she did. Aries smiled weakly, rain droplets falling from the tips of his horns.

"Okay then. Let's go visit your parents."

Catherine squeezed her hands together, too nervous to speak up. She was about to see her parents again, after so long. Joy and dread mixed inside her stomach, creating a vile concoction that tried to push its way out through her mouth. She tried to subdue the urge to throw up. This would be the moment where she realised how much her parents truly loved her... or how much they truly hated her.

Aries was the one who knocked on the door of No.29 Redeemer's Road. His weathered and scarred knuckles struck the hard plastic three times, making a vibrating thud sound with each tap. It took a while for someone to respond, and Aries had to knock a following two times more.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" Said a tired, depressed sounding voice from beyond. Catherine swallowed, and her heartbeat sped up. She recognised the voice.

The door opened. A short, balding man in his late forties stood there, the handle gripped in his fingers and the door cautiously half-open. Catherine couldn't hold it in. The moment she saw him she burst into tears. He looked at the skinny young woman dressed in multiple anoraks, and his eyes began to puff up and swell, and his lip twisted with sadness.

"Cat?" He exclaimed. Joy twisted within sorrow lined his face.

"Daddy!" Catherine choked.

Not a word more was shared between the two of them. Without encouragement the two embraced one another, the man wrapping his stubby arms around the girl, bringing to attention that she was a little taller than him. Her head rested upon his left shoulder. Catherine squeezed him so tight that if he had been a balloon he would have burst. Her long hair fell down his back like a hazelnut waterfall. He quickly pushed his head away and turned back into the house, wiping tears that slid down his cheeks with a hesitant sleeve.

"Helen! Come quickly! We've got visitors!"

A few seconds later they could hear frantic footsteps hurrying about upon the landing above. A female figure hopped down the stairs in pairs of two, her long blonde hair collected up in plaits around the top of her head. Under her eyes were black marks, the trade for a lack of sleep. For a moment she seemed confused and a little concerned. She froze as she looked out through the doorway, and saw Catherine stood there. A wracking sob escaped her mouth a second later.

"Cathy!" she exclaimed. For a second she forgot how to walk, as she almost fell over her own feet in order to reach her daughter. Catherine couldn't see a thing past her tears, but she managed to find her way into her mother's arms. "Gene, our little girl's come home!" the woman sobbed, her arms coiling around Catherine's body. She cried into her mother's chest, never wanting to let go again.

Aries couldn't hold back a content smile.

"I missed you, Mum." Catherine whimpered. "I missed you both so much. I'm so sorry!"

"We missed you too, sweetheart." Helen Griffiths told her daughter.

A loud zap sound and a faint flash of red light from within Catherine's coats. She quickly pushed herself away, looking down in panic at her chest. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. She saw no burning holes or red scorch marks anywhere. She sighed and relaxed. Her Quirk had gone off again, but thanks to Aries' help it hadn't hurt anyone.

Her parents looked at her, concerned and nervous. They recognised that sound, that light, that faint smell of burning. Yet they could also see that the damage they had expected had not occurred.

"Why didn't..." Her mother began.

The happiness of the moment now gone, Catherine slowly unzipped each of her coats and pulled up the one shirt she was wearing underneath them. Beneath that was a black bra, thicker than the usual makes and seemingly heavier as well, though their contents were not so heavy themselves.

"To help Catherine avoid another _situation_ , I had a few friends of mine make her a lead-lined bra." Aries explained. "We found it was the best thing for insulating the heat and radiation from her beams."

Her parents turned towards the hero, astounded yet nervous. They did not completely trust that it prevented her quirk from hurting anyone again, but as of now it appeared to be helping. At least this meant that they could hug their daughter without worrying about being hurt. In that short moment of joy for seeing her again they had thrown caution to the wind and willingly put themselves at that risk.

"You've been caring for her well?" Eugene Griffiths asked the goat hero.

"As well as I can." Aries admitted humbly. "I'm no parent, but I've done all I can to help and support her, in her home life and school life equally."

Mrs Griffiths turned to her daughter. "Have you been okay? Are you comfortable living with Mr. Morse?"

"Please, just call me Kameron." Aries told her with a polite smile.

Catherine's mother didn't notice him. Her attention was focused solely on her daughter. She gripped her shoulders tight and continued to pressure her with questions. "Are you eating well? Are you sleeping well? Are you enjoying school? Are you making friends? Are you learning lots? Are you happy? Do you miss us? We miss you lots, sweetheart!"

Catherine felt a sense of vertigo as she was drowned in her mother's many concerned questions. She could feel her body wobbling.

Aries coughed. "I'm sorry but we can't stay long. We've only got permission to visit you for a few hours, after that I have to take Catherine back to the hostel."

Mr and Mrs Griffith looked at him, their joyful expression beginning to fade.

"You're not bringing her home?" Eugene Griffiths asked.

Aries shook his head. "We're just here to visit, since we were in town for academic reasons." He explained kindly. "She's not ready to leave my supervision yet. She's still got a long way to go, but she's getting there, slowly but surely."

Both of her parents looked downward, depressed. The surprise of seeing their daughter after several months apart was now gone, left only with the knowledge that she would soon leave again.

"I see." Said Mrs. Griffiths.

"Well, thank you for caring for her." Said Mr. Griffiths. "And for bringing her to visit us."

Silence followed, and lasted for a few seconds. The Griffiths were too saddened by this reunion to speak any further. They all knew that not much could be said or done in the few hours they had. They had far too much to say and to do to ever fit it all into one day. But they did have some time together, so they had to use it in what way they could.

"Why don't you come in?" Mrs Griffiths offered, stepping back through the doorway into the house and aside so that their visitors could enter.

"Thank you both." Aries said, stepping past the biological mother of his adopted daughter. Catherine followed behind him, taking the hands of her mother and father as she stepped through the doorway. The plastic door closed shut after them.

She had never expected to feel nostalgic about her old home, though she had never expected to leave it in the first place. It was nothing special in terms of size or design. It was a small, two storey home with two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom and a cupboard. That was it for the rooms, most of which were large enough only for a couple of people prepared to put up with cramped space. The living room was tricky to navigate past the sofa and large arm chair placed beside a disused stone fireplace. A small television set sat on the other side of the room, near the door to the kitchen. Though Catherine and her parents didn't have too much of an issue with moving about within the building, Aries was finding it much trickier. The roof was a bit lower than most houses, so his horns were constantly scraping the ceiling and catching the lights. This problem had been present the first time he had visited as well, on the day when he took Catherine into his care.

Her mother offered them a seat while she went into the kitchen to make them all a cup of tea. Catherine and Aries sat down upon the sofa, while her father took the chair beside the fireplace.

"Why are you back in Scarow then?" Mr. Griffiths asked, reclining into his chair and stretching his short legs out onto a footrest.

"The students are learning more about how to deal with real criminals." Aries explained to him, folding his arms across his lap. "Our headmistress had the idea to take them out on a weeklong trip, and we decided this would be a good opportunity for them."

"Of course, you work for that new hero academy, don't you?" Mr. Griffiths remembered. "How has my daughter been doing? Is she learning? Is she... making friends?" The questions came out awkwardly, and Catherine started to shy away, knowing that she couldn't give him a positive answer.

Aries glanced to her for a moment, and then gave her father a hopeful yet solemn look. "She's been working very hard." He told him respectfully. "Obviously, with her Quirk, he have to take precautions to prevent harm coming to other students. In her non-physical education she's doing well, though she could do more to interact with her other classmates during group activities. In terms of her physical education she's struggling, largely because of the nature of her Quirk. Though I will say, in her last exam she did exceptionally well. Her team might not have finished successfully if not for her efforts."

Mr. Griffiths nodded slowly, taking in this information. While he still seemed proud of his daughter's efforts, it was also obvious that he was a little sad that in some areas she was failing. Catherine looked at Aries after his last comment. She had not thought that her efforts during the Criminal Apprehension Exam were anything special. In fact she had thought her attempts to help her team were pathetic. She had only done one thing for them; burn off the hinges of a bank vault, and even then she'd needed encouragement from one of her other team members and had asked everyone present to look the other way first. She hadn't done anything else to assist them. She hadn't tried to support them in any way, not even by encouraging them. She hadn't wanted to be there in the first place. What was it she had done that had impressed Aries so much? Why did he believe she was hero material?

Her mother walked back into the room, bringing with her four mugs full of dark black tea. She placed two upon a coffee table in front of the sofa, one for Aries and one for Catherine. The other two she placed on a side table besides her husband and upon a small bookshelf at the other end of the room.

"I wasn't sure how you took your tea." Mrs. Griffiths explained to the horned hero. "I can bring you a small jug of milk or some sugar if you like."

"This is fine." He told her, inhaling the smell of the tea through his nose.

Aries lifted the mug up to his lips and gently let the liquid pour into his mouth. He took only a sip at a time, careful not to burn himself. Catherine looked down at her own mug. She didn't feel like drinking it right now. She put her hands around the mug but the hot liquid did little to warm her. Helen Griffiths sat down on the other end of the sofa, the opposite side of Aries. She had to lean around him to talk to her daughter.

"So, Cathy, are you enjoying your new school?" She asked with a hopeful smile, hot mug of tea in hand.

"Yeah..." Catherine said unenthusiastically. "It's okay, I suppose."

Her mother could tell how blatantly she was hiding her real feelings, and she was about to start prying further when Aries interrupted them.

"I was just saying to your husband, Catherine's doing well enough in her classes. She could aim to do better, but she's not failing by any means. The last exam she took part in went quite well."

"That's good news." Mrs. Griffiths said reassuringly, trying to smile valiantly. "Forgive me, Mr Morse, but we wanted to speak to our daughter alone."

Aries closed his mouth, slightly flustered at the directness of the request. "I'll step outside for a few minutes." He stated, standing up abruptly. Catherine reached for his arm, not wanting him to go. He looked down at her, and gave her an encouraging smile. "Let me know when you're done talking." He walked from the room, leaving Catherine alone with her parents for the first time since the incident.

She sat gripping her arms with anxious hands, trying not to meet eyes with her mother or father. She had never struggled to talk to them before, not like this. There had been moments during her childhood where she hadn't wanted to talk to them out of anger or irritation or spite, but this wasn't like those times. She wasn't angry at them. Instead she was worried that they were angry at her. The worst part was that she couldn't blame them if they were. It was her fault their lives had been upturned. She took a sip from her tea, which was still full to the brim within her white mug. She could have spoken first, but she knew that it wouldn't matter much. They were certain to ask her the obvious questions straight away, whether they began the conversation or she did was an irrelevant detail.

"Has he been taking care of you?" Her mother spoke up after a minute of silent rumination.

"Yes." Catherine whispered.

"Are you eating well, sleeping well, washing regularly, checking yourself for abnormal lumps...?"

"Helen." Mr Griffiths interrupted, giving his wife a wordless look of discouragement.

"Yes." Catherine repeated hoarsely. Her voice was croaky and starting to falter.

The silence persisted for a while longer. The family of three sat in their Livingroom, gazing at the floor because none of them could muster the courage to look each other in the eye. Outside the rain continued to pour, heavy and violent, as if the sky was weeping.

This was tough for her. Catherine had imagined seeing her parents again, but she hadn't thought she would feel this anxious around them. She had once hoped that she could reform the life she had lived before the incident. She had asked Aries about this, and he had given her the harsh truth. The chances of anything ever going back to the way it used to be was very unlikely. He described it as being similar to breaking a bone. No matter how well the bone heals, a scar will always be left behind. That scar may be small and unnoticeable, or it may be large and detrimental. It may weaken the bone permanently, stopping it from ever healing properly. There are some things that once broken cannot be fixed again. That event had left a massive scar on Catherine's life, and upon the victim's family and her own family as well. That scar would not heal for a long time, no matter how much anyone wanted it to. He had also told her that when people are hurt by someone they love, they may become weary of that person. They might even excommunicate them from their lives entirely. She had to be prepared for that possibility when meeting with people from her past life, because she may no longer be able to hold the relationships she once had with them.

"You look healthy at least." Her dad said with a feeble laugh. At least he was trying to be positive. She couldn't imagine how they felt, what they thought of her. No doubt they would try to explain, but even the most beautiful and insightful words can never fully express the thoughts within a human being's mind.

"Have the police been back since...?" She trailed off. The fading smile upon her father's face answered that question for her. She should have expected it. Of course they would come back. Even though she wasn't living here anymore, they would have put their house under continuous, long-term observation. It was far too important to them that they never let a situation like that one happen again, even if that means intruding on the lives of the victims.

"An officer comes around once every fortnight." Her father said. "They usually inspect the house for further evidence or anything they deem suspicious. They've already taken most of your belongings from your room, the stuff you left behind that is. At one point they attempted to interrogate us." He began rubbing his knuckles. Catherine hadn't noticed it, but her father's hands were bruised and scarred. Around his wrists were marks left by tight handcuffs. "They didn't learn anything that they didn't already know. I'm not sure what they were expecting to get."

"They wanted to know where you were." Her mother spoke up, sniffing bravely as the memory sat vividly in the forefront of her mind. "We told them that you were in the care of Mr. Morse. They had hoped that you were living back with us."

"Why?" Catherine asked.

Her mother swallowed, almost choking. "They don't want you out of their sights." She explained. "One of their higher ups doesn't completely trust Aries to control you. They think that you need to be kept in special confinement for the rest of your life, to avoid any risk of harm befalling the public."

"I hate how they talk about you!" Her father continued, growing angry. "As if you're a rabid dog that needs rounding up!"

They were both still angry about it. That surprised Catherine. This situation was her fault. She had caused it to happen. The police were only doing their job; preventing people from coming to harm. Her parents ought to be angry at her. She felt that they were, but they weren't openly stating it. That would have been better. If they had come out and said that they were angry with her, that they hater her, she would have felt more justified in the guilt that consumed her. Their silence on the matter only made that guilt cling tighter to her heart. They didn't say it because they didn't want to hurt her, but that made her heart ache more than any insult ever could.

"We didn't realise how awful it is for people with Quirks like yours." Her mum continued, agreeing with her father. "When you were taken away it was like the world had fallen apart."

The guilt in Catherine's heart burrowed into the muscle, creating cracks upon its slippery surface. She could still vividly remember that moment. She was dragged out of her home by a squad of riot police, handcuffs around her wrists and a specialized jacket wrapped around her chest with the intent of momentarily neutralizing her Quirks. She could remember her parents trying to stop them; her mum pleading and her dad grabbing one of the officers by the shoulder. That same officer had struck him with the barrel of his gun and forced them both onto the ground. Her dad's jaw looked healed now, but at the time there had been so much blood. Upon seeing what the officers were doing to her parents she had screamed at them... and her Quirk had gone off again. It burned a hole right through the jacket and sent two lasers up into the sky. She was knocked unconscious immediately after that.

She had woken up inside one of their high security quarantine cells and had spent a whole week there, crying in a curled up ball upon the bench. They had barely fed her or let her use the bathroom. They hadn't even been there to hear her cries. Nothing in her life had made her feel so isolated before. She didn't know what was happening outside of the cell. She didn't even know what had happened to her parents. The fear that they had been hurt because of her was so tangible at that point. Then Aries had shown up, and made a deal with her. The next day she had been allowed to go free, but not back to the normal and mundane life she had once had. Now she was under the permanent supervision of this hero who had come to visit her. She wouldn't be allowed to return home, instead she would live with him and learn to control her Quirk. She got one short chance to see her parents after that, for just a brief moment outside the police station. They had barely had the time to explain the situation. Catherine hadn't even been allowed to hug them. All she could do was cry and follow the ram-headed hero.

"I'm sorry." She whimpered. "I'm really, really, really... sorry..." Her voice trailed away into a miserable squeak. She couldn't stop herself, she started crying again. That was all she could do anymore; cry and dread that she would hurt someone again.

Her mum reached over and hugged her, tears falling from her own cheeks as well. She pulled her daughter into a comforting embrace, placing her cheek upon her head and hushing her calmingly.

"This is my fault..." Catherine subbed. "All my fault... I'm so sorry, mummy..."

"Shhhhh..." Her mother rocked her gently back and forth, as she had done when Catherine was a baby. "It's okay, Cathy. You're not at fault."

"I am!" Catherine insisted, wiping her tears upon her mother's chest. "Because of me, Dillon is..." She choked before she could finish the sentence, wailing like a grieving wolf.

"It was an accident, Cat." Her mum continued. "Accidents happen. It was our fault for not expecting it. We knew your Quirk was unpredictable, but we didn't imagine it could kill someone. If we had, then maybe..." She went quiet, not daring to express that possibility in words.

It took a few minutes for them to calm down. Catherine spent most of that time sobbing onto her mother's lap. Though it was not an uplifting thing to witness, it seemed to help get most of the grief out of her system. She sat up again some time later, snivelling, eyes red and sore, with bags drooping underneath. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, all the while shaking from the aftermath of her emotional breakdown. Her mum gave her a comforting smile of encouragement, and her dad left his armchair to join them both on the sofa. The two middle-aged parents sat with their teenage daughter between them, and together the family of three cuddled together once more.

"Do you hate me?" Catherine asked timidly.

"Of course not." Her dad told her. "We could never hate you, Cat."

That at least gave her some piece of mind, though she still wondered if they were being honest with her.

"Do you still love me?" She asked.

"Of course, sweetheart." Her mum said without pause.

"Then can I come home?"

This time her parents didn't answer her. They looked at each other, exchanging an awkward glance. Whatever they were about to say, it wasn't good.

"We'd love to have you back-"Mrs Griffiths began, and for that minute half-second Catherine felt hopeful. "-but it's not that simple. We aren't allowed to decide that anymore."

Catherine looked up at her parents, and saw just how saddened they were by the issue.

"Why?" She asked.

Mr and Mrs Griffiths slowly let go of their daughter, creating a small rift between them.

"The police won't have it." Her father told her with hard but also regretful truth. "After your Quirk was reclassified we were told that you would never be safe to live with. If you attempted to move back in with us they would have the right to arrest you."

"And home isn't quite as it used to be before then." Her mother added. "Our neighbours aren't quite as accepting of us as they once were. We've had a few of them trying to get us kicked out, and some have come to our door to insult us personally."

"All because of what I did?" Catherine realised. That only made it worse. She had thought that she had suffered the worst because of that day, but now her parents were paying the price for her mistakes as well. "Have you seen Mrs White since then?" She said a few seconds later.

Again her parents had no good news to give, and their faces expressed that far too blatantly.

"We tried getting in touch with her." Her mother admitted. "She won't speak to us. She doesn't want anything to do with us after what happened to her son. We've had multiple letters from her. You can probably guess what they said."

Catherine tried not to. "Why is she angry at you?"

"She thinks we knew about your Quirk all this time." Her father said. "She's been telling everyone in the neighbourhood that we purposefully let you walk around with a Type: 5 Quirk. The worst part is that they all believe her. She even suggested suing us for compensation."

"She won't, will she?" Catherine asked in shock.

"She might." Her dad said, and tried to look reassuring. "But don't worry, if she does we'll win!"

"She didn't even invite us to the funeral." Mrs Griffiths said with a solemn shake of the head. "We might have been able to apologise to her for what happened then."

"The Funeral?" Catherine hadn't known about this. They had buried him without telling her? Did they hate her so much that they wouldn't even let her be there for his final goodbye? The splinters that remained of her emotional core split and cracked even further. "I wish I had been here."

"You couldn't have done anything to change her mind." Her father told her.

"I know, but that doesn't make me feel any better." The tired and emotional young woman lowered her head and slumped forwards, guilt swelling her brain. "I can't do anything to change what happened, can I?"

"No." Her father said with cold honesty. "But you can still make sure that it never happens again?"

"How?" Catherine pleaded. "This _curse_ is a part of me still. I can't get rid of it. How am I meant to avoid this happening again?"

Eugene Griffiths looked to his wife. She shared a similar expression of uncertainty. The future for all of them looked grey, just like the rain that eternally poured outside their window. It took him some time to get the next sentence out of his mouth. He had to breathe deeply a few times in preparation.

"This Aries guy seems to care about you, almost as much as we do." He said with a solid voice. "Perhaps you should continue studying under him."

"Gene!" Mrs Griffiths snapped her attention towards him, stunned that he would even suggest wanting to send their daughter away again. "You can't be serious? You want our daughter to go away?"

"I don't want it, but I think it's best for her." He explained.

"She's our daughter!" Helen Griffiths persisted. "She belongs with us. What can he do to help her? He can't get rid of her Quirk. The most he can do is provide her with specialized clothing, and even that won't work forever. If he decides that he can't help her after all she'll go straight back into one of those cells."

"You would rather fight the law for her legal ownership?" Mr Griffiths rationally argued. "We'll never win that sort of a case. We won't even get a chance to speak. And even if we did win, what could _we_ do to help Catherine?"

Mrs Griffiths' mouth opened and shut angrily. Fiercely she tried to defend her beliefs, but the more her husband pointed out its flaws the tougher it became for her to hold onto them. "We'll find a way!" She blurted out in desperation.

Catherine watched as her parents argued. They had not fought like this before. There had been occasional rows, but this had emotion behind it. There was no rage, at least not at each other, but there was a lot of sadness and a lot of grief and a lot of desperation. A decision had to be made, and no matter what was decided all of them would lose.

"Go bring Mr. Aries back in, Cat." Mr Griffiths instructed calmly as the argument quietened down. "We need to talk this through with him."

Catherine obediently did as she was told. Aries entered back into the room with a lowered head, trying to avoid leaving scrape marks upon the ceiling.

"Is everything okay?" The hero asked, seeing the amount of distress upon each of their faces. He had probably expected there would be a lot of crying and sadness, but he was still surprised by the sheer quantity he could see in their expressions.

Mr Griffiths stood up to confront him. He stood almost a foot shorter than Aries, and was plumper and older as well, but even so he managed to create an intimidating presence. Being stared down by the doting father of a vulnerable girl was as scary as being staring down by a starving male lion or a mother grizzly bear. Aries took a cautious step back.

"I want to know... If my daughter goes with you and trains under you, will she be safe?"

Aries looked at him surprised. He blinked for a moment, but quickly readjusted into his usual disposition.

"Yes." He said.

"If she studies at your academy, will she learn how to control her Quirk?"

"Yes."

"If her Quirk proves too difficult to control, will you give up on her?"

"No."

"If she lives with you, will the police harass her?"

"No. What are you concerned about?"

Mr Griffiths raised a figure to silence him. Surprisingly it worked. "If, for any reason, your efforts fail and you are unable to help Catherine... will you bring her home?" He asked for the final time.

Aries didn't speak. He looked at the bald man and blinked. "I... will try..." He eventually said.

"That's not good enough!" Her father snapped, stomping his foot. "You must promise me this, hero! If you fail to help her, you bring her home!"

Aries glanced at Catherine for a moment. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, or what his unusual, uncertain expression was supposed to mean. As he turned back to her father he raised his head. Slowly his face smoothed out, and the wrinkles around his lips and cheeks creased to form a small smile.

"Sir, you have my promise, as a hero and as a guardian, that if I should fail in my promises to keep Catherine safe, to help Catherine learn to control her Quirk, to keep the police off her back, or to not give up on her, that I will bring her back to you straight away. I give you my word as Aries, the Number Fourteen Hero of Great Britain."

It was impressive to see him talk like that. He had a hand placed to his chest, upon his heart. The other was rigid at his side. Catherine smiled. Though today had been very difficult for her, seeing the determination in that hero's face gave her some small joy. He meant what he said. If she was with him, surely she would find a way to control her Quirk. If she was following him, she could find her way out of this eternal rainstorm.

* * *

They left the home of the Griffiths a few minutes later, after Aries had finished his now lukewarm tea and Catherine had said her goodbyes. She hugged her parents and apologised for all the pain she had put them through. Coming to visit them had brought all of that suffering back into their lives, and now that she was leaving again she was only making it worse. This visit had probably been a bad idea in hindsight. They hugged her back and wished her luck. Not much else had happened after that. The only thing of note was what her father said to her as she was stepping out the door.

"I know you can do this, sweetheart." He had told her with a tear in his eye. "You don't have to be the scared little girl who's afraid to make connections anymore. You need to let go of your past and start working towards your future."

She had smiled back at him, though she hadn't felt especially happy. The faint flames of hope and joy that had come from this visit were already being extinguished by the rain. She turned and left her family home behind, heading back towards the waiting police van with her new foster parent.

She wanted to do as her father had said, but it wasn't easy. Her past was what defined her now. She would always be the girl with a dangerous Quirk, the girl who had killed her boyfriend. In her head she thought of herself as a freak, a threat to those she loved, a broken tool that could never be fixes. Perhaps the first step in changing was overcoming those feelings. To do that she had to accept reality.

"I need to start facing the truth." She said as they stepped onto the road.

Aries looked at her. "Hmm?" He said, not quite understanding.

"You don't have to lie to protect me." She repeated, looking back at him. "You said that you want me to overcome my pain. I can't do that if I only believe in lies. I need you to start being truthful with me, so that I can start being truthful with myself."

Aries was impressed by her statement. She was starting to grow up already.

"I understand what you mean," He began, "but there are some truths that are too difficult for a young mind to understand."

"I want to try." She insisted.

He sighed. "Okay. What did you want to know?"

"Why is that criminal here?" Catherine asked. The question had been on her mind since that morning. It perplexed her.

"Oh, I see." Aries said after a long pause. "Fine, but I can only say so much. My work is supposed to be completely secret, only a chosen few know about it."

Catherine nodded, letting him know that no matter what he said she would not repeat it and she would not willingly put his job at risk.

"You understand that some people in this world do bad things?" He asked.

She nodded. This was the sort of the thing children were taught in primary school.

"Well, not everyone who does bad things do so because they want to. Sometimes those people are stuck in a life they cannot escape." Again, this was something that Catherine had learned early on in life. She wasn't sure where the hero was going with this conversation.

Aries' eyes turned towards the van, where he could see the back rocking about as the shark-headed criminal moved around inside. "Some of those people come from very bad situations. Situations just like yours and Ty's." He turned back to her with a steely look. "...And sometimes those people look for a way out of that life."

Catherine's eyes lit up with surprise. The point that the hero was trying to make was starting to take shape.

"And you help them escape it?"

"I can only help those who want it." Aries continued. "You cannot save someone who does not want to be saved. That's a reality that heroes have to face all the time." His eyes glinted with honest sadness after that last statement. He looked up, hiding the sorrow behind his unkempt hair. "I believe that all people – regardless of who they are, what they are or what they've done – deserve a chance to change, so long as they themselves strive for it. None of us choose the hand we are dealt, we only play the cards as best we can. But I believe that even those who seem hopeless can be saved." He turned back to her, a glistening smile covering his thin lips. "That is why I adopted you. I don't see a dangerous, unstable girl standing next to me. I see someone who needs to be saved from themselves."

Catherine almost started to cry again. "Kameron..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you... for trying to save me..."

Aries put a hand upon her shoulder, and pulled her close to embrace her in his arms. "Don't thank me. You're doing more work than I am. I cannot stop the rain from falling. I can only offer you an umbrella. You are the one who must use it."

Catherine gripped her foster father around his large torso. "Thank you for letting me see my parents." She snivelled.

Aries laughed. "Now that you can thank me for. Trust me, it wasn't easy to arrange. It had to go through several people before it could be permitted." He shook his head. "Chin up, Catherine. The storm will pass eventually."

Adoptive father and adopted daughter held each other upon the streets of Scarow City, the rain falling down upon them. The droplets melded into Catherine's tears.

It is tough to light a candle while it is stood in a rainstorm... but every now and then you may manage a small spark.

* * *

 **This chapter was surprisingly tough to write. I've been struggling to put it together for the last few weeks, which is why I took so long in posting it. It hasn't help that I've been feeling very tired for the last month. Must be the seasonal depression setting in. I've also had a lot of stuff going on in my personal life, so that hasn't helped. I'll set to work on the next chapter immediately. I'm going to delve more into some of the other heroes in this world, as well as introduce one of the more famous figures who has been mentioned a lot but so far not seen.**

 **Also I've started rewriting one of my old stories. The first 3 chapters are already available and the link can be found on my page. You can't miss it, its the one with _Rewritten_ in the title. Go check it out!**


	37. Chapter 32 - Supermassive

**Jon Laverick**

 _[November 25th]_

* * *

"Street Patrol." Tate muttered with his mouth inside a glass of orange juice. Unlike the other students around him look so cheerful or happy. "More like 'Let's walk about in the rain for three hours'."

It was the dawn of the third. Outside the city of Scarow was still as dreary and as a grey as it had been the day before, although at least it was not raining yet. Jon yawned with his mouth wide open, a slice of toast hanging in half from his lower jaw.

"What are you disappointed about?" He asked the twins, who were sat at the opposite side of the table. "You got to do some hero work, didn't you?"

Tate and Mitchell Anderson turned their harrowed gazes upon him. "When they said we would be walking the streets looking for crime, I was expecting us to actually find some crime to stop." Tate stated, dissatisfied. "There wasn't a bloody peep, not one. Not so much as a suspicious shadow."

"That must happen quite often." Aaren reasoned. "Heroes aren't fighting crime every hour of every day. If they were we'd have a serious problem with crime. Of course they'll have slow days."

"I thought it was pretty great." Freya said without sarcasm. "We got to see a bit of the city and experience what patrolling is like."

"It would have been better if it hadn't rained the whole time." Jon agreed. "But regardless, we seemed to get something out of it. Now we know the streets around the hostel. We won't get lost so easily."

"The fact that we hung around the hostel is probably why nothing interesting happened." Tate argued. "Criminals are hardly going to come this close to the wall, to a place where several heroes have gathered to train around forty students."

"They wouldn't know that we are here." Aaren told him. "The Academy hasn't made this trip public for that very reason."

"All more reason why we should have encountered a few crims." Tate groaned.

"Stop winging already." Payton said. "You're like a damn baby, crying about everything."

"Shut your pie hole!" Tate snapped back.

"Witty." Payton remarked in turn. "Your insults are getting better, or at least less vulgar."

"Shove it." Tate kicked the table leg, making the plates and glasses shake and spill. Each of the students had to grab their food and drink to avoid losing it.

"Are you done?" Aaren asked in annoyance, holding her fruit bowl and glass of water to her chest and off the shaking table.

Tate grumbled something rude under his breath and leaned on the table, stopping it from shaking.

"Maybe today we'll do something more exciting." Mitchell said optimistically.

"I think we're doing some sort of social thing for most of the day." Freya said factually.

Tate groaned louder. That was the worst thing he could have been told. He buried his head into his arms.

"Jared and Maisie still aren't down yet." Payton said after a few seconds. There were a few empty chairs at their table. Jason had chosen not to sit with them today, as he had gone back to his usual trio.

"What are they doing up there?" Freya asked.

"I think Maisie wanted to talk to him about something in private." Jon said.

"Ooh!" Payton winked impishly. "Perhaps they're finally going to confess to each other."

They looked at him.

"What? Jared and Maisie?" Jon was surprised by the suggestion.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought that." Payton continued. "Come on. They spend all their time together. He clearly has a thing for her, and she hasn't done anything to say that she isn't interested. There's something going on there. Perhaps Jared got tired of saying nothing and he's trying to confess his love or something romantic like that. Perhaps they're even..." He whistles swiftly "...sealing the deal!

"At eight fifteen in the morning?" Freya reasoned, very much doubting that last part.

Aaren snickered. Now they were all looking at her.

"It's an entertaining theory..." She told Payton, trying not to laugh, "...but that's absolutely not what they're doing."

"You know this how?" Payton asked her suspiciously. "You peeped on them, didn't you!"

"Maisie isn't attracted to Jared." Aaren told them directly. "She's not interested in boys."

The moth boy nodded in cunning realisation. "Oh, I see!" He declared. "She prefers oyster to sausage!"

"Dude, not at the breakfast table!" Freya retorted with a cheeky grin.

Jo's brow furrowed. "Oyster?" He repeated, bewildered by the comparison. "What part is the shell supposed to be?"

No one was brave enough to try and explain. They were also too busy trying not to laugh at him.

"I meant that Maisie doesn't feel that attraction." Aaren continued, looking rather pink after that short digression. "Jared told me that she doesn't seem to understand what that feeling is. She has no desire to... well, to put it in Payton terminology, bump uglies, with men or other women." She glanced around awkwardly. "Jared thinks that she might be asexual."

The group sat in silence for some time after that statement. It was heavy information to suddenly drop on the breakfast table.

"Asexual." Freya said in surprised.

"Makes sense." Tate said, nodding perceptively. "I mean, she is a bit strange."

They turned to him once more.

"Actually, that explains why she never reciprocated my advances." He realised. "Well, its unfortunate but what can you do? She'll just have to live knowing she'll never be able to have me."

The staring grew harsher.

"Tate, what do you think Asexuality is?" Jon asked him with real concern for his understanding of the world.

Tate blinked back at him. "It's when a person is born without genitals." He said with the bluntness of a lead pipe.

"No!" Jon shouted, disgusted by what he had just heard. "No it isn't! It's when a person has no sexual desires of any kind. Good grief!"

Tate leaned back on his seat, his head shrinking into his shirt collar. "Alright, keep your pants on, mister encyclopaedia. You're making a scene."

Jon looked around. He had spoken a little too loudly, and now the rest of the students, Junior and Senior, were staring at him in confused surprise. He sat back into his chair and tried not to meet their gazes.

"Poor Jared." Freya murmured. "I mean no disrespect to Maisie. If that's how she is then that's how she is, no changing it. But it must really hurt him if he feels that way for her."

Aaren looked at her, and then looked away in thought. This seemed to be on her mind as well, but Jon wasn't sure why. He knew that Aaren and Jared also had a rather close relationship, but was she close enough to him for this situation to bother her too?

"I always thought you two would have made a better couple anyway." Payton declared suddenly.

Aaren, who was the one being addressed by the statement, looked up, unsure who he was referring to. When she realised, she suddenly turned a light shade of pink and almost choked on her drink.

"No." She declared defiantly. "Me and Jared... God no. What makes you think that either of us would ever...?" She trailed off as the choking got more severe, and she had to strike herself upon the back a few times.

"You're always spending time together." Freya said in agreement. "It's hard not to think that there's something going on between you two."

"So I'm friends with a boy." Aaren said with a questioning shrug. "What's wrong with that? I can be friends with a boy if I want to."

"Very close friends." Payton continued with a wry, roguish grin. "What do you do during your private training sessions anyway? Hip Thrusts?"

"Shut up now." Aaren said quietly, hiding her embarrassed expression. Being the centre of attention for a discussion such as this was obviously not something she wanted.

"You wish you had lessons like that." Tate said to Payton, attempting to mock someone now that he was recovering from being shouted at.

Payton's attention was quickly snapped across to the twins. "At least I have a chance of making that happen. Most girls in our class want nothing to do with you two, and for good reason."

Jon noticed Aaren relax, sighing with relief. The attention had been taken off her for the moment. She was probably hoping that they would forget all about this conversation.

"We don't say any of this to either of them." She said as Payton and Tate's insult match quietened down. "He told me all this in private. I shouldn't have said anything about it. Please, please don't repeat this!"

The other five nodded, though each of them did so with a separate level of honestly. Jon could be trusted to keep quiet, and while Freya liked to talk she knew that repeating this would hurt them both. Payton was less trustworthy. He and Jared liked to joke around and laugh at things, so there was a good chance he might accidentally spill it out without thinking. Tate and Mitchell could not be trusted. The moment they got the chance they would probably start mocking Jared about it, or they would pass this information across to George Asher or Jason Jones. Jon could tell that Aaren regretted letting them hear this news the most. If you gave the Andersons a spark of fire they would soon burn down a forest.

It was fortunate that they had ended the conversation there, as only a few moments later Jared entered the dining hall. Maisie followed after him, looking shyly around at the room packed with trainee heroes. She had her arms wrapped around her stomach, as she usually did when she was nervous or uncertain. Jon had picked up on that quite quickly. People had repetitive habits when it came to dealing with stress, and that seemed to be hers.

"You're finally awake." Payton said with a greeting nod, as Jared sat down between Aaren and Jon.

"I wasn't asleep." He told them "I had... something I had to deal with."

Jon saw Payton wink at him from the corner of his eye. He very much doubted that Jared was implying that.

Maisie took the seat next to Freya, who considerately moved her wheelchair slightly to the right so that she could fit in.

"Did we miss anything important?" Jared asked his friends as he took a large bite out of a polished red apple.

"We haven't been told to hurry up yet." Jon said. "Though we'll probably be setting of for today's activities soon, so you might want to eat quickly."

"What are we supposed to be doing today, anyway?" Jared inquired.

"I think we've got those hero interviews today." Payton told him. Instantly excitement was sparked around the table.

"I forgot about that!" Tate bellowed in sharp exhilaration. "That's gonna be so cool."

"We'll really get to meet actual heroes?" Maisie asked, both amazed and anxious.

"We already have." Jon reminded her with a less enthusiastic tone. "Several of them are teaching us."

Maisie hid her face in humiliation of being corrected.

"Yeah, but they aren't especially exciting heroes anyway." Tate argued back. "I mean, who really wants to watch Mr. Yorke or Mr. Morse fight criminals. They're not especially flashy or explosive when it comes to conflict. Maybe Mr. Jensen would be quite cool to watch, if you paid him enough."

"They're in the top twenty-five list." Freya said.

Tate flexed his brows in doubt. "Because they're efficient, sure, but not because they're cool."

"They could probably be flashy and cool if they wanted to." Aaren said.

"Their Quirks don't really suit it though." Payton said in agreement with the Anderson Twins. "Throwing feather darts and manipulating metal are cool and all, but neither of them can create explosions that level multi-storey buildings or fire laser beams the width of a watermelon."

"You would've loved fighting our target in the CAE." Jared told him with an equally excited grin.

"I doubt they'll have gotten any large name heroes to show up though." Jon continued. "Most big name heroes will be busy, and the lesser known ones might not be as interesting."

"No way of knowing that till we meet them." Aaren reasoned.

"And anyway, they've already confirmed Supermassive will be there." Tate stated, pumping his fists eagerly.

"Yeah!" Payton agreed with a massive grin. "He should have some awesome stories to tell us. Hopefully they won't be ones told in the comics either."

"Isn't he supposed to be your uncle?" Mitchell said.

"Yes, he is." Jon said with a deflective sigh. He did not want to start this conversation again. He had already been through it so many times.

He had been dreading that one of them would mention this, and of course it was one of the Andersons. He hated how this news always made people gasp, as if it was something astounding. The moment they knew that he was related to the number two hero in the country they all began asking him prying questions, most of which he didn't actually know the answer to. Jared experienced a similar situation of people trying to pry into his personal life, though for some reason that happened much less often to him. Perhaps it was because, apart from having the same hair and eyes, he didn't seem very much like the Progenitor at all. He didn't have a Quirk, which made the comparison a lot trickier to see, but he also had a very different personality. As far as Jon could tell the Progenitor had never displayed any side of his personal life beyond his work as a hero. Most people didn't even know that he had children, although it was often assumed that he did. Meeting Jared had confirmed that. He seemed to be extremely cryptic and impersonal, almost as if he wasn't human. According to Jared he was not so different at home, though on occasions he attempted to play the caring father. Jared always talked about this as if it was purely bad, but from Jon's perspective he actually had one big advantage over other hero offspring. Most people either didn't realise or quickly forgot just who he was related to, and because of that he could avoid a lot of the prying and questioning that other hero offspring endured. Jon had no such luck. Once people knew that his uncle was the famous Supermassive they would never stop seeing the similarities.

"He must have told you some interesting stories." Freya said.

"Not really. I don't see him very often." That was sadly true, though the big reason for this was that, being the Number 2 Hero of Great Britain, Supermassive was a very busy man. There were times where he went for days without rest or sleep, fighting criminal organisations and toppling syndicates all across Europe. He was only in the country forty percent of the time. He wasn't sure what strings their teachers had pulled to bring him in for something so menial, but they must have been enticing. "He doesn't like to gloat anyway."

"Wasn't he in France recently?" Aaren asked. "I remembered hearing about in on the news. He was assisting their heroes in catching a group of human traffickers."

"Must've been easy if he's back so soon." Jared said. "Think we'll get to see his Quirk in action?"

"Perhaps." Jon told him in emotionless monotone. "If you asked him nicely."

"Good morning, everyone!" declared the booming voice of the eastern European hero with the microphone and portable speaker. All ears thudded with the sound of his attention grabbing voice. Dubstep twisted the volume dial of his speaker, and then spoke again. "Didn't mean to make your ears bleed there. Sorry about that."

Beside him entered Ravenhead, with his head feathers preened and tidied neatly. Even the small area of downy fuzz at the base of his beak was straightened and flattened. Rather than his usual scruffy plumage he looked quite well kept today. It must have taken ages to do all of that. It couldn't have been like combing hair. Feathers are simply too large to arrange in a single stroke.

"Go ahead, Nico." The raven teacher said to his colleague.

Dubstep chuckled awkwardly, and raised his microphone up to his lips again. "Alright, listen up." He declared in his more youthfully in tune voice. "Today ve have a very special event prepared for you all. As ve mentioned on Monday, several heroes have agreed to come in and speak vith you all about their experiences. Today you vill get the chance to ask them vhatever questions you have, provided they are about their hero vork."

There was a unanimous cheer of appreciation and excitement from the class. It seemed everyone was eager to take part in this experience. Even though Jon was annoyed by how much everyone talked about his uncle, he couldn't lie about being excited to speak with professional heroes. This was a chance most people would kill for. Some people probably had.

"Obviously you're all excited..." Dubstep continued, sharing his own type of enthusiasm with them. "...but I do have to remind you all that these people are very vell trained and respected individuals. Please treat them vith the respect they deserve, so no unnecessary insults, mockery or flash photography. They have agreed to take pictures with you if you vant, though they vill only do one vith each student for the sake of time. This might feel a bit intimidating for some of you, but remember that they vere all in the place that you are now at one point."

"Be ready to leave in five minutes, and make sure you bring something to write notes on, take photos with or anything you want autographed." Ravenhead finished.

"We'd better get ready then." Jon said, rising from his seat. "Eat up, you two, or you'll be late."

Jared and Maisie both nodded and began devouring their breakfast with large bites and mouthfuls. The rest of the students were also rising from their seats.

"Mind if I dip my sausage in your egg?" Tate asked Payton as he left his seat. A long, curving, brown piece of cooked pork hung between his fingers.

Payton looked at it, then at the twins. "Only if you buy me a drink first."

It didn't take very long for classes Junior and Senior to gather in the entrance of the hostel. Several cleaners had to squeeze through the crowd to get to the dining hall. Their teachers were already there waiting for them, with the exception of Silver Streak and Madam Broadhurst, who both appeared to be absent. As usually it was Ravenhead managing the students and teachers while the headmistress was not there. He seemed surprisingly good at it, though the more vocal and rowdy students caused him some trouble, but they caused trouble for the other teachers too.

Jon found himself squashed at the back of the crowding students between Jared and Maisie, having been the slowest to leave the dining hall.

"Where were you two?" He asked them, now that the opportunity for a quick private conversation was present.

"Just talking about some personal stuff." Jared told him quickly.

"Okay." Jon said, respectful yet still inquisitive.

Jared didn't look comfortable about telling him, which was unusual for him. There were times where he didn't tell his friends stuff, which realistically made sense because most people don't want to share every detail of their lives with everyone they know. He wasn't usually so awkward and uncomfortable about it though. As much as Jon doubted it, perhaps what the others had been joking about was actually true.

The Maisie spoke up, and took Jon by surprise. "We were discussing gadgets I'm making for him." She said with a shocking burst of self-confidence. "I had an idea for something to help him capture criminals without needing to hurt them."

Jon and Jared were surprised by how confident she sounded. Jon had never seen her speak with such excitement or pride before. She had always seemed so nervous and antisocial till then. Jared appeared to be surprised for a different reason.

"Wow." Said Jon. "What sort of a gadget where you thinking of making?"

Maisie grinned shyly, starting to feel a little more nervous now that another person was paying attention to her. "A Netting Gun." She stated, clasping her hands in front of her chest. "Jared didn't like how the stun gun I made him hurt people, so I'm making him a netting get so that he doesn't have to."

"Don't net guns already exist though?" Jon asked, pretty certain that he had seen policemen carrying such tools before.

Maisie's smile was already fading. Clearly she thought she had come up with something original. Jared answered for her.

"We're going to make a compact one." He explained. "Something small enough to fit in a pocket and light enough to carry easily."

"I see." Jon nodded. "Well, that sounds really interesting. You might struggle to find the parts while we're here, however."

"We're going to start it when we get back to Galafrei." Jared said. "Maisie will put it together while I get her the parts she needs. We might need to rely on the men at her forge, but that's yet to be decided."

"Maisie worked at a forge?" Jon said, baffled.

"They helped me rebuild my Stun Gun." She told him shyly.

"She goes there for professional assistance." Jared explained. "It's safest that way."

He said that as if Maisie had no understanding of professional metalwork safety requirement. If that was the case how had she managed to put any sort of gadgets or tools together without blinding her eyes or burning her fingers off?

"Okay everyone, eyes forward!" Ravenhead declared.

Sixty nine eyes turned to look at him.

"The bus will be pulling up in front of the hostel in a minute. Remember to board in a single line, no pushing or shoving. You do not need to sit at the back to be cool or safe, so don't cause a hazard for other students by shunting your way to those seats. Once we're all on-board we will embark for Grand Heracles Hall, where we will meet with Madam Broadhurst who is currently with today's guests."

"Finally we're going." Jared muttered, shuffling his feet. His excitement, along with everyone else's, still confused Jon. "I wonder if Supermassive is as cool in real life as he is in his comics."

"Probably not." Jon said in a dull voice. "Most famous people aren't"

* * *

The students of Broadhurst Heroism Academy began to board the bus. Jon was forced to sit at the front, so that his heavy feet didn't weigh down the back of the vehicle. He was used to this. In most vehicles he had to sit at the front for the same reason. It didn't bother him too much. It did mean that he was sat away from most of his friends though. The only other people sat nearby where the teachers, the driver and Freya Westergaard, the only other student with reason to be sat at the front of all public transport.

"Okay!" Ravenhead declared. "Off we go then."

The vehicle kicked into life, reversed out of the carpark, and set off through Scarow, following the narrow, weathered roads.

They drove for a few minutes, shaking and lurching over speedbumps and around sharp corners. Jon sat with his head in his lap, looking at the floor.

"You don't seem very excited." Freya said to his right.

He looked at her. "Forgive my lack of enthusiasm..." he said with a mocking tilt of the head, "...but I've already met the number 2 hero of Great Britain before. It's a little tough to get so excited about meeting a distant family member."

"He's your uncle." Freya said.

"Well done for remembering." Jon said. "I thought you and the others had forgot that. Actually I wish you would forget."

"Don't be so grumpy with them." Freya told him sympathetically. "You might not be excited to meet him but they are. You know him as family, so you're bound to be less eager. They don't have that bond. Let them be excited about it. Perhaps it'll make you feel better because they won't ask you about him so much."

"You have no idea how annoying it is, being related to a famous hero." He told her a little rudely. "People always ask me about him as if I know everything. What's he like? Where does he live? How can I meet him? Does he do autographs? Even if I try to answer one of these questions they have another five prepared for me. I doubt meeting him will change that. They'll probably just start asking me if I could help them meet him again."

Freya shrugged. "I may not have experienced that sort of thing myself, but I get that it's a pain in the ass." She said. "Have you tried just telling them that you can't answer their questions?"

"I don't think it gets through to them." Jon explained. "I like Jared and Payton and the others – though I don't like Tate or Mitchell much – but it's all they ever talk to me about. I feel sometimes like I don't have much in common with them.

"You know what the answer to that is?" Freya told him with an optimistic smile. "Find something that you _do_ have in common with them."

Jon looked at her, feeling that she was mocking him. "You think I don't try that? It's not so easy when all they talk to me about is my damn uncle."

"I can think of something we all have in common." Freya said, still smiling with that shining positivity. "You all want to become heroes. You must have a reason for that, so use that as a way to change their view of you. If you don't want to be seen as Supermassive's nephew then show them that you are more than that. Every one of us is at this academy because we couldn't meet the standards of other places."

Jon shrugged back at her. He doubted that it would work. That wouldn't make them forget that he was related to Supermassive. As much as Jared was rarely acknowledged as the Progenitor's son, no one had exactly forgotten that fact. They still bothered him with questions or insults every now and then. But most of the students didn't have such a great infatuation with Progenitor Wreath as they did with Supermassive.

"You know how I got people to stop noticing my wheelchair?" Freya continued after Jon didn't respond. Jon looked back at her, and shrugged, not knowing the answer. "I stopped bringing attention to it." She explained simplistically. "When people mentioned it I treated it as if it wasn't important. When people mocked and insulted me I laughed it off and moved on. Over time they just stopped caring. Then I started working on utilizing my upper body strength, and after that people barely noticed that I couldn't walk. It was no longer the thing that defined me."

Jon nodded impressed. He was glad that she had managed to achieve that, but still he felt their situations were different.

"You just need to find the think you want people to know you for." She added as a final point. "I'd suggest focusing on your feet. They may hinder your movement but they also back a powerful punch – or rather, kick. Show the others that move you used on the Crusher and they'll quickly start associating you with that instead."

Jon had forgotten about that moment. He had been running on adrenaline at the time, and afterwards much of it had been blacked out o his memory. He remembered the crater that was left behind afterwards very well, and he remembered what he had planned to do before creating it. In truth it was very different to his Uncle's style of fighting, so if the others were to see it in action they might start to forget his relation to Supermassive. "Yeah." He said, feeling a little more empowered and encouraged. "I'll try that." He turned and gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Freya."

"No worries." She said. "Anything for a pal."

* * *

The bus reached its destination shortly after setting off. It was not heading for the gate today, but instead went further into the city, to a large concrete building nearby the wall at the western corner of the Tivoly District. They reached it after only five minutes of driving. Like the gymnasium it had the flag of the Hero Movement flailing upon the roof, catching the rising winter winds.

The bus came to a stop outside within the large carpark at the building's front, at the edge of the pavement outside the entrance. Through the window they could see Madam waiting for them, her pink dress neat and tidy and her arms clasped behind her back. The teachers were the first to exit the vehicle, and behind them followed their excited students. Jon found himself being shoved out of the vehicle at the front of the crowd, barely able to resist the force they placed upon his back. If not for his overweight metal feet he would have fallen flat on his face.

"Howdy y'all!" The well-dressed middle aged woman announced, exaggerating her American accent unnecessarily. "I trust you all got enough sleep last night. You'll need that rest if you want to get the most out of this weeklong trip. As you've already been told, today you will be meeting several professional heroes currently working in Great Britain. Some of them you may already know, while others you may not. They will be answering your questions and offering you advice, but more importantly than that, they will be helping you understand what it is that is needed of a professional hero."

"It might get a bit crowded in there." Jon said to Freya, looking up at the building in front of them. It wasn't especially large or wide, and only had two storeys. Were any of the rooms inside big enough to fit a class of thirty four, especially when some of their students were rather – for lack of a better word - big?

"I just hope they have a lift." Freya told him, smiling slightly.

"They're all waiting for us inside." Madam continued, taking a step back into the doorway of the building. The glass doors slid open like magic the moment her feet landed on the sensor pad. "If you could all follow me."

The two classes of Junior and Senior entered into the building, squeezing through the wide doorway as a large body of compressed students. Their teachers followed behind them, with Madam at the very front, driving the herd of trainee heroes. The interior of the building was nothing special to those Jon had already seen in Scarow, or back home in Galafrei. The same front desk layout, the same blue coloured walls, the same ceiling lights. He suspected that the same architect had designed each of these buildings, which was entirely possible.

"Beyond here..." Madam announced, stopping in front of two large red doors after leading them down a corridor to the left of the entrance, "...is the hall where you will be meeting our guests." She placed a hand upon the left door. "I'm sure your teachers have already explained this, but while in the presence of our guests you must be well behaved and polite. As they themselves will explain, they have done a lot for this country during their careers and they deserve to be treated with respect. Anyone who decided they are incapable of behaving appropriately will be asked to step outside and will not be allowed back in until the end of the session."

Both of the classes had their suspicions of who would most likely act this way. For class Junior it was obviously the Anderson twins, but it surprised Jon that the senior students all seemed to glance at Adam Parrish. To be fare it was very easy to stare at him. His large clay body filled the corridor, and his round head was pressed awkwardly into the roof. While he couldn't do much to argue against the point, Tate and Mitchell were responding to their staring by staring back with their own style of judgement.

A hand arose from the crowd, and Madam pointed to it. Lavender lowered her arm.

"Is there anything we aren't allowed to ask them?" She asked.

Madam thought for a few seconds before responding to her. "I would recommend keeping your questions focused on their hero careers." She explained. "Don't ask them about their personal lives too much unless it's relevant. Other than that, I'd say most questions are okay. They'll probably tell you if there's a subject they would rather not speak about, but I don't think any of them are likely to do that."

Lavender seemed satisfied with that, and she stepped back into the crowd, disappearing amongst the other girls.

"If that's everything," Madam declared, performing a full one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn on her pink stiletto heels. "Let's go inside and meet our guests.

She flung the doors upon with her pink gloved hands. They clattered against the walls with a reverberating metal ring. She stepped through the doorway, into the harsh light beyond, and the students followed suit.

As Jon's eyes adjusted to the harsh white hanging lights that illuminated the large room, he saw the state of the hall. It was a large rectangular room with little decoration other than red curtains beside the large windows on the left and right walls, a few paintings and photographs of individuals hanging almost at ceiling level, and at the furthest end of the room a large wooden stage at least a metre above the floor. There were seven tables set out in front of that stage, each with one chair on the stage's side and several on the audience's side.

Finally his eyes noticed the seven figures stood waiting upon the wooden stage. They had turned to look at the doorway, no doubt startled or alerted by Madam's aggressive entrance. Some of them had been chatting, while others had been stood separate to the rest. Upon seeing the students enter they stopped whatever they had been doing and lined up at the front of the stage in relaxed yet practised stances.

Jon didn't recognise most of the heroes stood upon that stage, but he did recognise one of them. So they had managed to get him to show up after all. At the far right side of the line-up stood Supermassive. He looked just as Jon had remembered seeing him last, except this time he was wearing his hero costume and not his everyday clothing. The last time he had seen his uncle was at a family barbeque nine months ago. He had let stubble grow upon his chin back then. Now he was clean shaven, as he was expected to be. His square chin rubbed the collar of his orange spandex suit, almost touching the black spiral printed onto the centre of his torso. His dark brown hair was neatly combed and waxed with a left parting across the top of his skull. Over his eyes he wore a black plastic eye mask, though through it Jon could still recognise his light brown eyes.

He could already tell that the others were excited to see him there. Jared had practically squealed like a pre-pubescent girl who had just seen her favourite boy band walk onto stage. It made Jon feel so awkward, so embarrassed. They shouldn't be doing that. He was as human as they were. What was so amazing about meeting Supermassive? He remembered what Freya had said to him on the bus ride over, and out of respect for his friends and the desire to keep them as his friends he tried to refrain from showing that distaste.

"All of you take a seat." Madam instructed, leaving the students as she approached the stage by herself. It took her a bit of effort to climb up onto the metre high structure, as her short legs couldn't quite reach up onto them. For one awkward second the class was given a full view of what hid underneath her long pink skirt. Jon would be having nightmares about that for years. Eventually she was up onto the stage and continuing her speech. "Quickly now, all of you sit down, then we can start."

Jon sat with his usual group of friends, with Jared, Payton and the Andersons to his left and Freya, Maisie and Aaren to his right. The boys were stomping their feet eagerly, far to childishly for people who wanted to become super heroes. It wasn't just them excited about seeing several highly ranked heroes stood in front of them. Across the room Jon could see Rylie Taylor's tail flicking and curling around the legs of her chair. It only did that when she was excited. A couple of the other girls were chatting and pointing at one of the younger male heroes on the stage, apparently they found him attractive. Even George, Jason and Philip were apparently impressed by some of the speakers. Jon was starting to feel more and more like he was an outcast in this environment. He felt that their excitement was unwarranted, yet he was starting to suspect that it was him who was odd in this scenario.

"Welcome everyone..." Madam began, her thin heels sliding on the polished wooden floor of the stage. She almost stumbled before she could even start speaking. "...I want to start with a big thank you to our guests for come here today. Before we begin chatting away you should give the students a short introduction, so that they know who you are."

Here Madam was talking to the heroes behind her. She stepped aside so that the audience could see them properly without her shadow in their way. As she bowed out, she extended an arm to suggest that one of them step forwards. Nobody moved for a few seconds. Then Supermassive started to chuckle.

"I guess I'll go first then." He decided, and stepped forwards.

The moment he took that step the audience erupted into ferocious clapping. Jon was the only person not clapping so hard. It felt awkward for him to celebrate seeing a family member in this way. No one else in his family celebrated him like this. If hi and Jared's experiences were anything to go by, it seemed that being related to a famous hero made a person more unimpressed and judgemental off them. Supermassive had barely had a chance to speak yet, but doing so would have been difficult thanks to the deafening clapping that echoed throughout the room. He continued to chuckle, and awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

"Morning everyone." Supermassive said.

His voice was so warm, so friendly. That was probably what people liked most about him. It wasn't just his large stature and muscular body. He always seemed to be such a relaxed and kind-hearted man. Even in his personal life he behaved that way. It was rather strange though. Jon had never seen him get angry or lose his temper. He'd never even seen him tell someone off. People were attracted to warm personalities. That was evident right now, watching his friends clap and cheer for a family member he was not especially close to.

"First off, I want to say a big, big thank you to Ms Broadhurst for arranging this event, and for getting in touch with me and asking me to make an appearance here today."

Madam gave a flattered laugh from the side of the stage. It sounded painfully fake.

"My name is Supermassive, I doubt you've ever heard of me before." The number two hero continued. This got a laugh from the audience of students. "I've been working as a hero for twenty years now, in Great Britain, Ireland and Europe. I started training when I was sixteen and after four years of study and hard work I finally earned my license. That's not to say I was that great of a student, though. You can ask my teachers all about that."

Another series of laughs. Oddly enough it seemed the teachers were the ones laughing most this time.

"I started in a place very much like the one you are in now." Supermassive said. "So believe me, I understand the struggle that comes with striving to be the best you can, even when everyone else thinks you can't do it."

He paused for a moment, glancing at Madam Broadhurst. Though she was doing nothing to suggest there was an issue, he suddenly seemed pressed for time.

"I've probably said more than I needed to." He declared moments later. "I'll just add that it's great to see all of you today, and I look forward to talking to all of you in a few minutes."

He stepped backwards into the line, leaving the front of the stage empty once again. The other heroes looked over at him, a mixture of emotions on the visible faces. Some were uninterested, while a few others seemed to be annoyed.

Another one of them stepped up to the front of the stage. He was a stick thin, pale man, with a pair of oval, rimless glasses sat high up the ridge of his nose. Unlike the other heroes he seemed much more nervous to be stood before only forty people.

"Morning." He said with an awkward stumble. "My name is Regen, and I'm the Number Five hero in Great Britain."

That took Jon by surprise. He had heard the name Regen mentioned before, but he had never actually seen the man. He hadn't expected the number five hero in the country to be so... nervous.

"You might have heard of me..." Regen continued, "But chances are you don't know me very well. Unlike my colleagues here with me today I don't especially enjoy standing in the limelight. I work as a Recovery Hero, helping rescue individuals stuck in all sorts of scenarios. Usually I support other heroes in rescuing and healing civilians during terror attacks, as well as providing medical support to any heroes who need it. In fact I've been doing this for so long that I was recently given the title of Greatest Recovery Hero in the country."

While there was applause for the uncomfortable man, it wasn't anywhere near as much as Supermassive had received. The awkward hero didn't seem too bothered by that however. Now that his piece was said he stepped away and joined the line up once more.

A hero at the other end of the line shrugged impatiently. "I guess we're doing this by ranking then." He declared, and brazenly stomped to the front of the stage. In terms of looks he seemed quite plain, dressed in a leather jacket and grey jeans. The only unusual piece of dress wear was the black eyepatch over his right eye.

"Morning, all of you wannabe heroes!" The one eyed man shouted so loud that his voice made the windows shudder. "I'm the number sixteen hero of Great Britain. I go by the name Blindsight. You might've seen me on the news more recently, the up and coming newbie with a lot of talent. I must admit, I wasn't expecting to get so far so quickly, but you too can manage it with hard work and perseverance." He pointed at the crowd in a faux act of encouragement. While the audience clapped for him it was rather evident that they weren't too impressed by his self-important attitude.

After him came the remaining four heroes. While none of the others acted so pompously, they weren't necessarily much better. The hero who followed after him was an elderly man known as Gemsey, who was apparently one of the oldest still employed heroes in Great Britain. He had several multi-coloured crystal clusters sprouting from various areas of his body. He told them that at one point he had been in the top five ranking, but in his old age he had lost appeal with the public and was now only the Number Twenty Hero in Great Britain. After him came the only female hero in the line-up, a French woman named Rêveuse. She had explained that her name was taken from the French word for _Dreamer_. She was the Number Thirty-Four Hero in Great Britain, although apparently she was barely known in her home country.

There were two others after her, though Jon found them to be less interesting. One was a man made entirely of charcoal, with a body so thin and small that it could barely be seen. This was not the most eye catching detail however, as around his body was a continuous blazing fire that formed a humanoid shape. This charcoal man seemed to be seated at the centre of that fire apparition, like some bizarre kind of fantasy monster. Appropriately he had the name Guy Fawkes, and he was the Number Forty Five Hero in Great Britain. The other man was an Italian individual, with a curving moustache and strands of brown hair hanging down his face. He called himself Baroque, and he was the Number Fifty Two Hero in Great Britain.

It seemed that this quick introduction was supposed to gain interest from the students, and to some extent it had, but Jon felt it had also turned the crowd away from the more brash speakers. He certainly didn't feel like hearing Blindsight speak after his brash declaration. He was interested in some of the others however, and he felt that hearing more about them would be worthwhile.

"So, here's the plan." Madam interrupted at the final speaker's introduction ended. He had barely stopped speaking before her shrill voice cut through his light yet blatant Italian accent. "For the next couple of hours we're going to split you up into seven groups. Each group will be talking with one of our guests for fifteen minutes before we switch you around to another guest. This will repeat every fifteen minutes until everyone has gotten a chance to talk to each of our guests." She began counting heads with a pointing finger, and then realised that they couldn't create equal numbered groups out of their thirty four students. "If there is a guest you are really eager to speak to, please go stand by their table now, we will sort everyone else remaining into groups."

Quickly madam came to realise the problem with this request. A large number of students, far too many for one group, wanted to speak to Supermassive straight away. At least half of Class Junior had swarmed his table, which unfortunately was at the middle of the room. This meant that the nearby tables were swarmed because of this. Eventually the teachers resolved this situation by splitting that group of students in half and letting one half speak to Supermassive first. The other half would instead be speaking to the guest at the neighbouring table on the left, which happened to be Blindsight's.

The guests had already taken their seats on the opposite side of each table, faxing students where were either there out of interest or a lack of choice. Jon had made a decision on who to speak to first without needing prompting from the teachers. He had joined the group at the table to the right of Supermassive. The guest speaker sat there was the hero he had been most curious about.

"Right then. You can all go ahead and get started now." Madam stated.

Immediately the room filled with chatter echoing of the thick walls. The sheer volume of voices made it tough to hear anything any of the speakers were saying, and even the naturally loud ones had to shout at some points.

Regen sat rigidly and uncomfortably upon his chair, keenly aware of the five pairs of eyes looking back at him. Jon Laverick owned one of those pairs.

"Okay then, what should I begin with?" The hero pondered with a small squeak in his voice. "I suppose I should ask if any of you have any questions."

One of them did. Freya raised her arm, and Regen nodded at her. "What does your Quirk do?" She asked.

He seemed surprised by the question. "Well, I honestly thought everyone knew about my Quirk by now." He said, trying to sound humble. "As the name suggests, it repairs anything which I touch. This can apply to living organisms, objects, buildings, clothing, tools... anything at all, I can fix it."

"Can it mend my legs?" Freya asked, with a tone that suggested she was mocking him.

He blinked awkwardly. "Were you born that way?" He asked cautiously.

"This is because of my Quirk." She told him.

"Then no." Regen explained. "My Quirk restores things to their natural, original state. It can't restore something that was made broken."

He had probably realised that he was walking on eggshells, and decided to end that explanation there. While Freya didn't seem upset or angry, Jon had noticed that her hands were clenched rather tightly around her wheel rims.

"Any other questions?" Regen asked, wanting to move quickly on.

"What made you want to become a hero?" Lavender asked.

"Well, when I started out it was with the hope that I could save lives." Regen explained. "Since most other heroes focus on fighting the villains, I decided to focus on saving any victims caught up in their actions. My Quirk wasn't suited for combat anyway, so I instead worked towards helping rather than protecting. Since starting my career I've managed to rescue over five hundred people, so I'd say I managed to achieve that goal."

The questions went on like this for a while, with Regen answering them as he saw fit. Some of them were about his hero career, others about him personally, and not all of them had interesting answers. One of those questions had been "What is your real name?", which had been asked by Vikki Brail.

"Oscar Owens." The hero told her. "Double O, my dad used to call me."

Jon felt that he ought to ask questions himself, but the others had already asked most of what he had wanted to know. He wondered why he was feeling so out of it. He had been in a bad mood all day. His friends' behaviour that morning had set him off, but now he wasn't even sure what bothered him. He tried to do as Freya had suggested, but it wasn't easy. What had seemed so easy to apply back then was much tougher a few minutes later.

"Okay, switch around!" Madam called. The first fifteen minutes were up. The seven groups of students stood up from their seats and moved across to the next table. The process went from right to left, so the group at the far left table had to walk all the way across the room to reach the far right. There was a joke about politics in there somewhere, but Jon couldn't see it.

The next hero his small group got to speak to was Baroque, who was not especially interesting. He didn't have much to say, even for the larger questions he was posed. The most Jon had learned about him by the end of their fifteen minutes was that he had been born in Florence, Tuscany, his real name was Cesare – pronounced _Cheh-za-reh_ – Adesso, his Quirk was called Sensory Distortion; which had the effect of altering a person's perception of the world for a short time, and his hero name had come from a childhood friend who had once described his quirks effect as 'like living inside a Baroque painting'. Beyond that he was not especially interesting. Unlike Regen he had been more confident in speaking with a crowd of students, but unlike Regen his work as a hero just didn't interest Jon as much.

The classes moved around again, and next in line was the French woman. She was ultimately much more interesting that Baroque, and surprisingly more interesting to talk to than Regen. She had a very warm and friendly smile, and her strong yet somehow relaxing accent helped to extenuate her other noticeably foreign features.

The first question was the obvious one. "What does your hero name mean?" Freya asked.

The woman smiled warmly at her. "Well, it is French, as you probably guessed." She began. Her attitude seemed to suggest that she knew how most British people looked at the French. It appeared se found that stereotype to be rather funny, even though she wasn't following herself. "Rêveuse means _dreamer_ in a feminine context. In a masculine context, you use _rêveur_." She explained. "For example, you would use it in zhe phrase ' _c'est une rêveuse'._ Zhat means _'She is a dreamer'_."

"How did you get that name?" Elijah asked. He was the only Senior student in their small group.

"Well, like most heroes, it comes from my Quirk." Rêveuse continued. "I can induce a dream state upon a sleeping person, allowing me to see zheir dreams, alter zhem and connect other dreamers telepathically. I call it my _Mind Pool._ "

Jon was now suddenly very interested. He hadn't imagined her Quirk was that unusual or that complexly interesting. She had seemed like a simple yet friendly French woman from afar. Her Quirk sounded like it had a lot of interesting uses. Perhaps not in combat, but in other ways.

"How does that come in useful?" Jon now asked. Unlike the last two heroes, who's Quirks were self-explanatory, hers was rather enigmatic.

"Well, since I work as a support hero, I don't often need to face combat directly." She explained. "My Quirk is most certainly not suited for it. I can only use it while a target is asleep, and I cannot use it to hurt them. It does allow me to see what goes on in zheir mind however, as zheir dreams re-enact zhose thoughts and feelings. Through that I can either calm zhem, persuade zhem or learn information from zhem. With other heroes it can help zhem relax, while with villains and criminals it's been useful in making zhem turn zhemselves in without a fight."

Jon found himself growing more and more curious about the idea. He decided to ask a rather unusual question.

"Could... you use it on me?"

The hero looked at him, as did the other students in his group. In truth he wasn't sure why he had asked her that. His curiosity had driven him to understand it further. Perhaps subconsciously he had hoped that using such a Quirk on him might have helped him get over his current annoyances.

"No." The hero said, not reluctantly, not unkindly, not disrespectfully. It was stated as a matter of fact. "You need to be asleep for it to work, and I don't really want to... how do you say...?" She struggled to find the right words. "...put you to sleep." She finished a second later.

While those words had a different meaning in English, Jon understood what she was trying to say. She didn't want to knock him out first in order to use her quirk on him. That was a valid reason, he supposed. There were multiple ways a person could knock another person unconscious, and none of them were advised. Some of them weren't guaranteed to work, others could cause physical harm to the target's body or even death if performed wrong. Even tranquilizers were unadvised, certainly if they weren't adjusted for safe human use. There was also the issue of usually being unable to wake them back up again straight after. But perhaps there was an individual with a quirk that solved this matter. If there was, it appeared that they weren't here today.

"But, if you do want to go through with some dream therapy, I work at a spa in Neworth. I could arrange an appointment to put you through a short dream trip."

The offer came out of nowhere, but it intrigued Jon. Having his dreams analysed would be interested. He didn't dream often, but having someone look into his head and point out the thoughts that were hurting him might help solve his current annoyance.

The groups switched around again. Jon had managed to get the address of Rêveuse's spa before moving on. He would go there and seek her help if he felt he needed it.

After her, Jon's group had to make the walk from the far left of the classroom to the far right. The next hero they sat down with was Guy Fawkes. He was the least interesting out of all the heroes there, which was ironic considering his entire body – except for the charcoal centre – was made out of fire. His real name was not Guy Fawkes, which was a slight disappointment. It was actually Guy Hawkins, close but not quite the same name. Part of what made his so uninteresting was his lack of anything to say. He had a voice, even though he didn't have a mouth or lips or any visible vocal chords. His disembodied voice crackled like fire, but said very little. He didn't have an interesting reason for being a hero, or a unique life, or a dramatic and emotional backstory. Even being near him wasn't interesting. Jon had assumed that sitting so close to sentient fire would at least be hot, but there was barley any alteration in temperature. Apparently the hero was currently controlling and nullifying the effect of his flames so that they didn't burn anyone at that moment. Who would have thought that someone with a Quirk like _Fire Manifestation_ would be so uninteresting?

Next, moving left to the next set of seats, was the veteran hero Gerard Ramsey, more commonly known as Gemsey. Jon had been a little curious to hear what he had to say, especially since he had the longest career out of every hero in the room, even his uncle. Surely he would have some interesting stories to tell. It turned out that he did, though not quite in the way Jon had been expecting. His time as a hero appeared bizarrely unexciting and – for lack of a better description – easy. What was interesting, however, were the number of public and charity events he had done over the years. Jon had already known about a few of these, but he hadn't realised just how many the hero had managed and appeared at. He'd even had a TV show for a while, _Gem'll Fix It_ , where he'd worked alongside children and young adults to spread awareness of various diseases, disasters, crimes, substances and villains who were at large at the time. That all sounded fascinating on the surface, but Gemsey never went into much detail about. In fact he seemed to ignore the questions that were about behind the scenes, or his reasons for doing such work.

"Well it was a laugh at first." He said eventually, revealing the most he was prepared to say. "We weren't sure whether people would enjoy watching a TV show which was run and managed by a hero, but it turned out they did, in fact it was the biggest selling point. I suppose I was the first Showman Hero in that respect. We would get all sorts coming in to talk about the dilemmas of the world, and the guests would have a great time. There were lines of people each filming day wanting to get a seat beside me." He started laughing under his breath.

"Did bringing attention to the world's problems help?" Lavender asked.

"Oh yes." Said Gemsey. "It helped a lot. Because of me we managed to beat Red Spots and Pollo Fever. We also helped catch several wanted criminals who were in hiding. If I hadn't spoken about them they would still be rampant through our society."

Jon felt that was a little self-congratulatory of him. Someone else would have probably done that job as well, even if it took them longer.

"I used to watch your show when I was a kid." Elijah told him.

"Oh, did ya?" Gemsey said with a pleased grin. "Well, tell ya what... since you lot've been so interesting to talk to, why don't I leave you with a parting gift."

Jon wasn't sure what he was about to offer, or even why he felt the need to do so. None of the other heroes had done such a thing. The veteran hero gripped one of the multi-coloured crystals growing out of his wrist and pulled it free with a slight crack. It fell apart into five small pieces. He held out his hand, and offered one to each of them.

"Good luck crystals." He explained. "Keep them on your person and you'll always have my luck with ya."

Jon very much doubted that was true. Gemsey's Quirk simply allowed him to grow mineral deposits on his body, it didn't provide a person with good luck. The gesture was kind all the same, and Jon took one of the crystals from him. Elijah, Lavender, Vikki and Freya took the remaining three for themselves.

"Thank you." Lavender said, turning the small rainbow crystal between her fingers.

"Always a pleasure to help such young and... hopeful kids." Gemsey stated. The pause he had taken made Jon feel a shiver in his spine. Something about it worried him. In the back of his mind he was questioning what the man had been going to say. There was also something in his eyes. His stare was unnerving as well. His smile hid it well, but his eyes were glaring at them... like an own targeting a mouse.

Jon hid his relief as the groups switched tables again. He was glad to be away from the man. Though he hadn't done anything directly to concern him, that look he had seen in the heroes eyes had made him feel very uncomfortable. There were only two tables left now, and they had finally reached the one where Blindsight sat.

His attitude was no different now to the one he had while introducing himself. The man was very sure of himself, though he was only five years older than Jon and his classmates. His pirate getup seemed to magnify this. The eyepatch was especially appropriate, though Jon would soon learn why he was wearing it.

"Why did you pick your Hero Name?" Freya asked him. "What does Blindsight even mean, anyway?" Her rudeness was a retaliation to his. He had accidentally kicked her wheelchair from under the table and pushed her back a few centimetres. He didn't even apologize for that.

"I picked it because it's a catchy name." The hero told them simply. "I took the words _blind_ and _sight_ and put them together to create _blindsight_. It's a sort of contradictory name, and I like that. It also sounds a bit like _hindsight_. It's relevant to my Quirk, too."

"Isn't your Quirk that laser eyes one?" Elijah inquired, also not responding to the hero with as much respect as he was supposed to. The hero had done little so far to earn it.

"It is." The hero responded, starting to pick up on their attitude. "I can fire laser beams out of my eyes." In order to demonstrate, his uncovered eye began to glow bright red, then white. It didn't fire a laser, but Jon felt that if the hero hadn't restrained himself it would have. "I can fire lasers from both my eyes, but if I do both at the same time they're weak. If I cover one of my eyes, however, the other one can fire a full beam with ease." He pulled at the cloth strapped over his right eye. "That's why I ware this you see."

Beyond that Blindsight had little to say. His careen was not yet long enough to have any real interest to it, though the fact that he was already the number sixteen hero ought to suggest he was a uniquely talented individual. His attitude wasn't helping this either. By the end of their fifteen minutes Jon hoped he would never meet this man again. The most he had learned about him was what his quirk did, his real name – Andrew King – and a couple of stories about his misbehaviour at school. That was it. Though he was at least a bit more interesting to talk to than Guy Fawkes and Baroque, Jon had no plan to go back and hear more about how he used to prank the other trainee heroes at his academy.

Finally his group had come to the last table, the one which he had been dreading. He was left sitting face to face with his uncle... the famous and beloved Supermassive.

While Jon didn't have anything he especially wanted to ask or know, the other members of his group did, and through them he was able to learned things that he already knew about the hero.

"Why are you called Supermassive?" Vikki asked eagerly.

His uncle gave them a large, warm smile, his muscles bulging through his tight spandex suit. "Well, let me answer that with another question." He said "Do any of you know anything about black holes?"

The five of them shook their heads.

"Well, when I was a child I used to be fascinated with space." The hero continued. "I had a telescope which I would use to look out at the universe above us, and entire shelves of books on astronomy and space sciences. I had this dream of spotting something no one else had ever found before." He paused, smiling at the memories he was recalling. "When I was five my Quirk first began to manifest. At the same time I managed to find something I had never expected. While staring through my Telescope I spotted a distant speck within a far of galaxy... a dark space at its centre. I later learned what it was... a black hole." The hero adjusted his seat, leaning forward on the desk. "Once I knew what it was I began researching it further. I learned what black holes were, about how they had such a strong gravitational pull that not even light or time could escape them. The more I read, the more they fascinated me. And then I learned about the biggest kind of black holes known to man... Supermassive black holes."

"So that's where your name comes from?" Lavender said with interest?

"I suppose it was a lucky chance that my Quirk worked so well with that title." The hero continued. "You'll probably already know about it, but if you don't, my _Gravity Increase_ Quirk allows me to increase the gravitational pull upon anything I touch. With it I can weight down and crush anything and anyone... just like a black hole. Since supermassive black holes are the biggest, when I decided to become a hero I knew instantly that I wanted to be known by that name. I wanted to weigh down all the criminals in the world and crush them under the righteous weight of justice."

Jon rolled his eyes. He had heard that statement from his uncle before. It was practically his catchphrase. ' _Crush them under the weight of justice'_. That was all well and good in concept, but justice could hardly be handed out to a criminal who had been crushed to death. Though Jon would give his uncle credit for knowing that. A Quirk like his could easily cause severe injury to a person, yet he had never heard of any incidents where this had happened. Supermassive was careful with his ability, using it only to disable a target as much as was needed. Years of training had taught him what limits he had to reach before he started to cause them harm.

"How did you make it to being the Number Two hero?" Freya asked him.

"Lots of perseverance, practice and work." Supermassive told her. "You have to be dedicated to stopping crime and helping people, otherwise you'll never make it that far.

"Did you ever think you would become so famous?" Vikki asked.

Supermassive chuckled. "Not really. It just sort of happened. I never hungered fame, I just wanted to help people. Fame came with that, I suppose."

Next came a question that Jon hadn't been expecting.

"Do you think you'll be the next Number One hero in Great Britain?" Elijah inquired curiously.

At first Supermassive was taken aback, but quickly he recovered his usual optimistic and cheerful grin. "Well, I won't act like I'm aiming to achieve that..." He told them humbly, "...but if a day comes where the Progenitor cannot or will not keep fighting, I will take up that mantle with pride."

This seemed to inspire the group. It didn't inspire Jon though. It annoyed him further. His friends would only be more loud about their admiration for him if he ever became the number one hero.

Their time was up shortly after, and all of the groups had now been to each table once.

"Okay everyone, thank you for behaving today. We'll be heading back to the hostel in a few minutes. Please gather everything you brought with you and make your way back down to the bus." Madan declared over the many chatting voices.

Jon had been about to join up with his friends, when a hand stopped him.

"Come with me for a moment." Supermassive said.

Jon didn't argue, though he was surprised that his uncle wanted to speak to him. They walked to the other side of the room and stood near a far corner, out of range from the curious eavesdroppers. Jon could see that Jared and Payton were jealous of him, and that only annoyed him more.

Once separated from the rest of the class, Supermassive let go of Jon, and his usual optimistic smile faded to a look of concern. "You don't seem very happy." He said to his nephew. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Jon said with disinterest.

"Are you sure?" Supermassive pressured. "You didn't say much during our meeting. It's not like you to not get involved."

Jon was surprised that his uncle had any impression of the sort of person he was. They so rarely saw each other. He shrugged dismissively. "I didn't have anything to say."

"You couldn't even say high?" His uncle attempted to give him an encouraging smile, but it didn't work. Jon wasn't meeting his gaze, turning his eyes away. In doing so he saw his classmates glancing in their direction, watching him jealously. He tried to ignore them. Supermassive however came to a quick realisation. "I see." He said, smirking and shaking his head. "Your friends are bothering you?"

Jon didn't directly respond to him, but the expression that quickly crossed his face said more than any words could. Supermassive's question had been confirmed correct.

"What's the problem? Are they jealous that I'm your uncle?"

"Sort of." Jon admitted, realising that he couldn't avoid this conversation anymore. The biggest issue with explaining the problem was that Jon wasn't completely sure what the problem was. It embarrassed him to open up about it to the person at the centre of that issue.

"All they ever talk to me about is you." Jon told him finally. "It's like they hardly even realise that I'm not you.

His uncle patted him on the shoulder. "Ah, so it's the classic relative syndrome." He said, shaking his head. "I get it now. Nothing you can do about it, I'm afraid. You can't stop them from being curious about it. The best you can do is be yourself, and they'll start seeing you as a different person to me."

"I've tried that." Jon said. "It's hard. At first it seemed I could talk to them without the subject being brought up, but the more of them that learned about it the less they cared about anything else."

Supermassive thought about that for a bit. "Well, if the issue is that they're more interested in me than they are in you, perhaps you should do something to create that interest."

"My friend Freya suggested that."

"Then it must be good advice." His uncle said. "Look, Jonny, they're your friends for a reason. You must have something in common, so work with that. Don't worry about them being fanboys and girls. Even if they aren't paying much attention to you right now, if you continue being there for them they will eventually see what you're capable off." He chuckled. "Hell, you're taking the same path I did, walking the same road. You're a part of my family. You'll do something to astound them someday. Then they'll start noticing you."

Jon shrugged. It wasn't quite the advice he wanted, but there wasn't much else he could do. "Thanks, Uncle Ash." He muttered.

"Don't mention it, buddy." Supermassive ruffled his hair. "How's your mum, by the way?"

"She's well. Dad too." Jon said.

They awkwardly stood together. After a few seconds the hero let go off his nephew and clapped his hands together. "Right then. I'd best be going. My time here is up." He pointed a finger at Jon's chest. "You take care of yourself." He declared proudly. "And keep working hard. I want to see you become the next upcoming hero! Don't disappoint me, Jonny."

"I won't." Jon responded weakly.

He returned back to the class, re-joining with his friends who were still watching him.

"You lucky bastard." Payton said as he returned to them. "Getting a private conversation with Supermassive himself."

"What did he say to you?" Jared asked.

Jon shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing. He just wanted to say hi, and wish me luck. Family stuff."

"I envy you, man." Payton said with a jealous smile. "Having him as your uncle must be so cool. I bet he gave you some inspirational advice, didn't he?"

Jon glanced back. His uncle was now leaving the building, along with the other heroes. Before walking through the red doors he turned and nodded at his nephew. Jon found himself smiling back.

"Yeah..." He said, "...I suppose he did."

* * *

 **So this chapter was really tricky for me to write. I haven't been in the best mood for a while now, and because of it writing for this story has become really challenging. It doesn't help that Jon isn't really my favourite character to write for. I'll have to do something to change that in the future. Also, because it's Christmas I've been feeling a need to rush my work more, the year's about to end and I want to get something out before it does, that sort of mentality. Because of that I feel that I've rushed this chapter quite a lot. It ended up being much longer that I wanted, so sorry about that. I might take a break until the new year, but I don't really want to leave this as the last chapter till then, so I'm going to try and get out another one before then.**

 **So yeah, sorry if this chapter is a mess. I'll try and do better in the next one.**

 **Also, I want to thank my readers who have been supporting me while I wrote this chapter. It was really challenging for me and you seriously helped out. I probably would have given up on it if not for you.**


	38. Chapter 33 - Until My Body Breaks

**Aaren Whitley**

 _[November 25th]_

* * *

Someone had once told her that fighting and dance were almost one and the same. Their biggest difference was intent. People danced in order to express their emotion, while fighting was purely for the intent of hurting another. Her father had always disagreed with that statement however. He felt that the two were as similar as chalk and cheese. Aaren had been given no reason not to believe him. He was an older, much more experienced martial artist. He ought to know just how different the two art were.

Aaren had never danced before. She doubted she would be any good. She knew how to fight, however. She knew that quite well.

Neither she nor any of the other students had been expecting what came next after their meeting with the heroes. They had all been under the impression that they would be going straight back to the hostel afterwards. They were back at the bus when the teachers stopped them.

"We weren't sure whether to save this announcement for tomorrow or not..." Ravenhead said as the thirty four students and one ghost crowded outside the buildings. "...but since you've all been on your best behaviour the last few days, and you've been patient with us and involved in the activities... We've decided to arrange another activity for the day."

There was immediate chatter of curiosity. The students wondered what this next activity would be. Some were suspicious that it would be laborious or boring, but others were hopeful it would be more relaxing or exciting. They only had to wait a few seconds to find out.

"There's a small martial arts dojo nearby, which runs one-on-one matches for trainee heroes." Aries explained to them. "It'll be open until six tonight. Seeing as how it's twenty-past-one now we're prepared to take anyone who's interested there for a chance to show off what they've learned over the last few months."

Aaren's attention peaked. She hadn't expected this to be an opportunity. Obviously there was a need for them all to train for close combat situations, but so far most of their activities in Scarow had revolved around looking further into the Hero Movement in some way. This offer seemingly had no relation, though perhaps the dojo was owned by the movement as well. How could she turn down a chance to show off her martial arts talent?

The other students seemed to be thinking a similar way, and when it came time for them to decide, most of the thirty four students chose to go to the dojo. Only two others chose otherwise. Ty and Catherine had opted to go back to the hostel instead, as Aaren had suspected they would. Those two seemed to avoid interacting with other students at every opportunity. Catherine had been in her group while interviewing the heroes that day. She had barely cared about anything they had to say. Aaren already had enough experience with Ty to know that he behave the same way. That only made Aaren wonder why either of them were even there in the first place. If the two of them didn't want to learn how to become heroes then why were they studying at an academy for training heroes?

So instead of taking both the Junior and Senior classes back to the to the hostel, the bus instead took a detour a little further into the city, to a small but sturdy brick building in a slightly less appealing area of the Tivoly District. The wall was still visible from here, though it was more distant that in had been so far in their activities. They hadn't come this far from it even while patrolling the streets, and until now that had taken them as far as they thought they would go from its looming shadow. Ty and Catherine had gone back to the hostel with Aries, but their other teachers – excluding Madam who was still with the guests – had stayed with them for safety's sake.

They exited the bus once more and grouped up at the edge of the street. The building of interest was only a few steps to their right. It had a large metal sign above the doorway, with Japanese kanji written underneath a set of large letters; ' _Ishiken Martial Arts Arena'_. It was a much smaller building than the one her father worked at. She had been there many times throughout her life, visiting at least once a week before she started studying at BHA. His martial arts studio was massive, at least around four to five stories tall, and as wide as a supermarket parking lot. There were dojos on each floor, as well as several gymnasiums and a swimming pool. Her father was a health nut, and a lot of his attitudes had rubbed off on her and her older brother. She had always thought that was a good thing, but more recently she started to wonder otherwise. That pervasive need to be fit and able seemed to get in the way of her friendships quite often. Scolding Jared when he made mistakes or ate unhealthy food certainly helped him keep fit, but did he hate her for it?

The interior of the studio explained why the exterior was so small. This wasn't just some random dojo set up as a place for normal people to get some basic training in martial arts. This was a proper fighting arena, specialized for actual combat performances and competitions. Rather than bright hanging lights there were sharp yellow spotlights focused only upon the fighting ring, which was a metre squared raised foam mat with an elastic rope barrier surrounding it. Around the ring the floor was covered in soft mat, and beyond that were the seats where the audience would watch each match. Though it had seemed small from the outside, Aaren had now realised that much of the arena was actually below ground level, as the entrance to the building had a set of steps leading down into the ring itself.

The students and their teachers walked down these steps, to be greeted by an adjudicator dressed in a black and white striped shirt and shorts. There appeared to be other staff around as well, but most of them were engineers or technicians, working the lights and other equipment that might soon be activated. There was also a medic on site, sitting in the front row of seats with an emergency grab bag at his side. It was probably a good thing to have him around, considering some of the individuals who had just entered the room.

"Are you Mr. Victorsson?" The adjudicator asked as the teachers approached.

Ravenhead nodded at him, raising his feathered arm as an additional acknowledgement. "That's me."

"And this is your class?" The adjudicator asked further, glancing past the teachers at their students.

"It is."

"How many of them are there?"

"Thirty Two." Ravenhead said, then made a correction. "Technically twenty three if you count Mitchell Anderson." He pointed back at the ghostly twin, who noticed them looking at him.

"Both adults and children?" the Adjudicator inquired.

"Yes, both the Junior and Senior classes together."

The adjudicator turned away for a moment, thinking. "I can't allow the adults to participate with the kids." He stated after a few seconds. "To great a health risk. If they want to participate they have to do so in their age groups."

"Fine by us." Cyanide answered for them.

The adjudicator seemed appeased by everything, and allowed the school to move past him onto the mats by the edge of the ring.

"Alright everyone..." Ravenhead turn back to his students. "Before we start allowing you to enter the ring we're going to have our friend explain the rules to you." He beckoned the adjudicator to join them, and he did, standing between the students and their teachers with his legs spread and arms behind his back.

"Okay, listen up all of you!" He stated in a loud voice that filled the entire arena. "Have any of you ever done martial arts before?"

Most of the class members raised their hands. Aaren could voice that some of them were telling the truth as she had seen them in Aries' training sessions. What they learned during PE wasn't so much related to combat as it was to general fitness.

"Now, have any of you ever taken part in a martial arts competition before?"

Other than Aaren, no one else raised their hands. Normally she would have been proud of this fact, but right now she felt a little too awkward about it, like the others were secretly judging her. She had been initiated into a competition when she was ten. By that point she had already achieved a black belt in Karate, and was quite experienced in Taekwondo, jiu-jitsu and kung fu. Her father had pressed her to take part, and while she had come third place in the under twelve category she hadn't done the best she knew she could. It had left her with a slight feeling of incapability, especially because her father had been upset that she lost. Six years had passed since then, and for the most part that feeling had faded, but it had started to return with the prospect of having to compete in such a similar place with her classmates.

"Well, you'll probably know the competition rules already, but for everyone else I'll explain them." The adjudicator declared.

"Hush it at the back!" Dubstep warned, noticing that George, Phillip and Jean were whispering away near the back of the class.

The adjudicator cleared his throat. "These are the rules! No foul play; including aiming for opponents private parts, head-butting, grabbing hair or clothing, or striking a downed opponent. You may use your Quirks during this fight, but if they pose a direct danger to anyone inside or outside the ring I will disqualify that participant. There will be one round which will last five minutes. The winner of the fight will be the last participant inside the ring or able to keep fighting. If you are unable to keep fighting, forfeit by raising your right arm above your head. If you leave the ring, whether by choice or not, you will also forfeit the match. If both participants are still in the ring and able to fight by the end of the round I will decide who the winner is based on their performance and current state. Once the fight has ended or the time is up I will sound the bell and both of you will be required to leave the ring. Any further attempts to fight will lead to disqualification and punishment. Is this understood?"

There was a general desynchronised head nod from the students. Aaren doubted that any of them had taken it all in, maybe some of the smarter and more interested students had understood most of it, but the few at the back who were still chatting – despite their warning – had most likely not heard a word. She hadn't needed to listen, already knowing the rules of such competitions, though it didn't hurt to be reminded of them.

"So, who wants to go first?" The adjudicator now asked, clapping his hands together. It seemed that this was the part he was waiting for as well. Explaining the rules and making sure the students acted safely was just a necessary step to get there.

Most of the students were eager to be one of the first to take part in a fight. Aaren had not been eager, but she had been prepared. She was simply waiting for her someone else to try and take her on. That would be their mistake, of course.

"Go on, JJ!" She heard George shout from the back of the class. A parting formed between the students, allowing Jason Jones to be shoved forwards by those he called his friends. Behind him George and Phillip was cheering for him, pushing him towards the front of the class. "Our boy here will take on any of you!"

Jason's expression was tough to read. He either didn't care that he was being forced to fight, or he was hiding his anger at his friends and would probably snap the moment he wasn't being watched.

Though Aaren couldn't deny that she was interested in seeing Jason fight one of the other students. She had missed most of his fight with the Bomber during the Criminal Apprehension Exam, thanks to the air blast that had knocked her flat a minute before he arrived. Apparent his quirk allowed him to be exceptionally agile, letting him jump and throw himself around with quick blasts of air. He also been incredibly aggressive, going constantly on the attack and not allowing his opponent time to breathe. Seeing such a fighting style would be interesting, though she was certain that it would utilize very little professional techniques.

"No way is he going first!" Tate interrupted before Jason could make it to the front of the class.

"He absolutely is!" Phillip snapped back defensively.

"We were going to go first!" Mitchell stated, siding with his twin. "We're not going to let you lot steal our limelight."

"What makes you think you could ever live up to any of us?" George growled at them. His bold canine head was especially shiny in this dim light.

"Excuse me, but I'll have you know I'm pretty awesome!" Tate declared without a hint of sarcasm or self-awareness. "Heck, I managed to beat the progenitor's kid with ease. Did you forget about that?"

"A blind girl could beat that Quirkless bastard in a fight." George continued. Though Jared didn't respond to the insult, Aaren could tell that he was visibly angry about it. "And you almost lost to him anyway."

"I did not!" Tate snapped.

"I think we've got our first two contenders." The adjudicator declared suddenly.

Tate and Mitchell turned towards him, and quickly noticed that the man's hands were pointing both to them and to Jason.

"Wait... what?" Mitchell said.

"What's the matter? You too scared to fight after all?" Phillip teased. Aaren was noticing more and more that he seemed very unsure about his taunts. He always said them as if he was looking for approval from his friends, not as if he actually meant them.

"Never!" Tate countered.

"Then fight him, pussy!" George pressured.

"I will!"

Tate approached the elastic barrier, pausing to look back at the class and the adjudicator. The checker shirted man nodded his approval for the match to go through, and with a noticeably nervous gulp Tate slid through the barrier and into the ring, with Mitchell following more confidently behind him.

Jason, who had said nothing to argue against the fight or to encourage it, walked around to the opposite side of the ring and entered from the furthest corner.

"Everyone else should take a seat." Ravenhead suggested, noticing the protective glance of the adjudicator. The chance of a student being thrown into the crowd was rather high right now, and it would be best if there wasn't a crowd of trainee heroes there to catch them.

"Come at me, Fart Hands!" Tate shouted at his opponent, striking his knuckles together. Now that the fights were officially taking place he was trying to pump himself up in preparation. "You probably won't even put up a proper fight!"

Jason raised a mocking eyebrow, and flexed his arms. "Okay, No Balls!" He snapped back, saying his first insult since he was shoved into the ring. "This match won't last one second."

"Bring it, bitch!" Mitchell yelled.

"No foul language, please!" The adjudicator snapped.

Tate and Mitchell looked at him awkwardly. "Sorry." They muttered pathetically. This seemed to earn them forgiveness.

The adjudicator raised his arm up, waited for a few seconds, and then brought it down in a swing. He blew into the whistle, which let out an ear-shattering high-pitched squeak.

None of the students would ever get to see what Tate's idea of a proper fight was. He didn't even get to take a single step.

Jason had been stretching both his arms out behind him. The moment the match began he had thrust them both ahead of himself. The ripple of air they released was massive, and strong enough to make the foam-covered ring ripple and swing.

It hit Tate and Mitchell like an explosion, not even allowing them a moment to blink, and threw them hard into the barrier, through the elastic bars and out onto the matted ground around it.

The students who had been cheering were stunned into silence. No one had quite been expecting that sort of an outcome, largely because they had actually been expecting a fight.

The entire match had lasted almost a second, as Jason had predicted.

"Next?" The adjudicator declared.

Cyanide was helping Tate onto his feet, and he in turn was helping Mitchell onto his. They were shooting a few vicious glares in Jason's direction as they were lead away to the audience's seats to re-join their fellow students.

"Impressive." Lu mocked them.

"Shut up." Tate warned, sulking.

"I've never seen a fight end that quickly." Payton joined in. "That must be a new record."

"Shut up." Tate repeated. Mitchell wasn't saying anything much either, but he too was sulking just like his twin.

"What was that you said about being awesome?" George snidely slithered his way into the mockery.

To everyone's surprise neither of the brothers had anything to say to him. Considering that he was the one who had egged Jason and the Andersons on in the first place, the fact that they couldn't even attempt to stand up for themselves against him was a sign that George Asher had totally crushed their self-confidence. Aaren supposed that someone had to succeed at that at some point, but she admittedly felt a bit sorry for the twins. Most of the other students would have laughed at them and moved on, but they had fallen foul of one of the few students who would continue to rub it in their face.

Jason was now stepping down from the ring, not so much as breaking a minor sweat. He sat down beside Philip, shuffling as his spines nearly jabbed into his right arm.

"You put him in his place all right!" Philip told him with an overconfident grin.

"Morons didn't know what hit them." George agreed, still glaring with hungry eyes at the twins sat in front of them.

In a much quieter voice Jason said "If this had been a fair fight they might have stood a chance."

Tate almost burst a blood vessel in his temple. The rage in his heart was almost exploding out of him. It was fortunate then that a new distraction quickly came along.

Another match had begun, decided while the students were talking. This time it would between two of the senior students; Deborah Fry and Ryan Mackay. Their fight lasted several times longer than the one between Jason and Tate and Mitchell, but even then it didn't last much longer than half a minute. Both participants decided to rely on their Quirks during the fight. Ryan's Quirk, which was called _Hand Gun,_ allowed him to fire a series of small metal pellets from both his palms. Because of how dangerous this could be he was only able to fire off two pellets – one into the floor by his opponent's foot and the other into the wall just to the left of the adjudicator's head – before he was given a warning and told to stop using it. Deborah's Quirk was a little more wild and uncontrollable. Aaren had been warned about it once before. It was called _Spontaneous Combustion_. The moment she activated it her entire body became engulfed in flame. Six seconds later the match was being called off, and several technicians and medics were rushing to the scene with fire extinguishers. Deborah was quickly scolded for her rash actions, and the victory was given to Ryan through disqualification. Someone should have foreseen that letting two students who had blatantly dangerous Quirks go head to head was not a smart idea, but somehow this had slipped through the cracks. Perhaps the teachers simply hadn't expected it.

A minute later and the ring was back in use, the fires now put out and small mattings of grey foam covering the squishy floor. A new match was already taking place, this time between Jason's lackeys. During the wait George had started an argument with Phillip over who would last the longer in a fight, and Jason had suggested that they both fight each other to prove it. Now they were both standing in the ring, facing each other down.

Aaren had never really paid attention to the way that either of them fought before. She hadn't really watched either of them during the Combat Exam and neither of them had been in her team during the Criminal Apprehension Exam. They also did not take the self-defence classes, so their styles of combat would be interesting to watch, especially considering that one of them was part canine and the other was covered in long, sharp spines.

"This'll be interesting." Jared whispered to her before the fight began.

She nodded in agreement, though she was probably interested for a different reason to him. Jared probably just wanted to feel good about watching one of the two ruffians lose for once. It would be cathartic.

When the fight did begin, it did indeed provide a very entertaining viewing, though not quite for the reason Aaren had wanted. It turned out that neither of the two arrogant teenagers knew much about hand-to-hand combat, and had instead relied mostly on their Quirks. Philip used his spine-covered back as a shield against George's flaming balls of saliva. Since George did not want to get close to Philip's defence, and Philip was not prepared to lower said defence, the both of them were left at a stalemate, unable to do much to the other but wait for them to give up their current tactic and try something else.

One thing that was impressive about the fight was the body paint that George put on. Well, perhaps body paint wasn't the right term. It would be better described as Body Fire. He coated the pinnacle of his bold skull in his own saliva, letting it run down his forehead and across his eyebrows. Then, when he had spread it enough, he set it alight with his breath. Several sprouting flame horns now sat upon his head, stretching out from his eyebrows and his cranium. This was a rather impressive image, and Aaren suspected that he had been practicing it. She wondered if it burned him at all, and if such an absurd action had rather painful consequences.

The fight ended after the five minutes were up, and still both boys were stood in a stalemate. No matter how hot George's fire was or how much of it he threw, he simply couldn't penetrate Phillips spiny shield. Because this defence was working so well, Phillip had no plan to change up his strategy. So the both of them were left untouched and unfulfilled.

"Who won then?" Payton mussed, confused.

"No idea." Jon told him, just as perplexed.

"Do they even know?" Tate joined in.

Considering that the two boys were now arguing outside of the ring with the adjudicator about who the winner was, Aaren was pretty sure that they didn't.

"Damn." Jared muttered with disappointment. "I was hoping that one of them would at least be humiliated."

"There'll be other times for them to do that." Aaren told him. Neither George nor Phillip were especially smart. They would certainly do something to humiliate themselves in the future. Though she had to admit that so far neither of them had done anything to garner the reputation for stupidity and general foolishness that Tate and Mitchell had. She could see them still sulking about their instant loss at the end of the bench. They must have known it wouldn't end well, surely.

"You could probably make fools of them." Jared murmured without thinking. "Most people in this school would probably lose in a fight with you."

Aaren felt that this was a subconscious hint, but she had never been good at guessing that sort of thing. The only person worse with social cues than her was Maisie, and Aaren suspected that she might have the excuse of an undiagnosed learning disability, though she wouldn't voice that concern around her or Jared. She knew that saying something like that would upset both of them. Aaren didn't have an excuse for not knowing this stuff, however. She had spent most of her life in a dojo or a gymnasium, fighting men twice her size on soft blue matted floors. There hadn't been much time for a social life in her childhood.

"I think you're idolizing me too much." She discouraged him. "Maybe I could been most of the students in our year, but the older students wouldn't be so likely."

Jared gave her an encouraging grin. "Nah, you could take them on." He said totally honestly. "You're Aaren Whitley. You can beat anyone!"

She laughed at him. As if saying her name somehow made her more important. She had been training in multiple fighting styles since she was a child. Of course she was good at it. But that didn't mean she was great at it. That didn't mean she could fight an adult who was twice her age, twice her size and most likely more experienced than her. Her fight with the Bomber had reminded her of that. She had thought that she could handle one man with relative, up until the point his explosives had sent her flying into the ground and left her shell-shocked and barely clinging onto consciousness. Fighting with your hands and feet worked against individuals with ranged or specialized Quirks, or against people with no Quirk at all, but against someone with an Quirk that worked best in close combat...? Could she handle that? Some of their fellow students, both old and young, had Quirks that would destroy her if she were to fight them up close. In such a fight her many years of training wouldn't mean very much. Perhaps that was why Jared idolized her skill. He was the only person who could truly experience it at its height. His lack of a Quirk meant that he had to train as much as she did.

Then an idea struck her. They had been training together for several months now, both in classes and outside of them. Perhaps it was time to put that training to the test and display what the both of them had learned in front of their entire school.

"Fight me."

Jared paused. He didn't blink for a few seconds, his green eyes staring widely into her narrowed brown ones.

"What?" He asked her after a few seconds.

"You heard me." She said in an encouragingly confrontational voice. "You think I'm so great. Now you can prove that I'm not, if you can beat me that is."

He chuckled, evidently thinking that she was joking. "Come on, Aaren, don't mock me." It was only as he looked more into her eyes, saw her stern and serious expression, that he realised she was not joking. At that moment his smile dropped completely, and a large bout of nerves began to build up. "You're being serious?" He asked weakly.

"Very." Aaren said, much more relaxed than he was. "It's about time you proved what you're capable of." She held out a hand. "So fight me, Jared Wreath!"

Jared looked at her hand. Aaren could not read minds, as was most likely obvious, though she imagined that right now he was mulling over the decision, fighting back against his anxiety, fear and doubt. It was only as George and Phillip finished their argument with the Adjudicator and sat back down that he made his decision.

"Okay." He stated, and shook Aaren's dry hand. "You're on, Aaren Whitley!"

Neither of them every found out who won the match between George and Phillip, but that didn't matter to them anymore. They both had something much more important to focus on.

The Adjudicator was able to figure out what the two approaching teenagers were aiming to do, and he did nothing to stop them from entering the ring. Behind them Aaren could her the other students, her friends, whispering in surprise. Then they began to cheer their encouragement.

"Good luck, guys!" One of the voices shouted, most likely Jon.

"Knock 'em out!" That one was definitely Payton's voice.

"Don't piss your pants fighting a girl, Wreath!" That was George throwing in his highly appreciated advice.

Aaren took her place at the left side of the ring. Jared stood opposite to her, looking very nervous. The cheers were not helping him, especially when the loudest were the taunting calls of the bully boys. Aaren was confident that he would do fine. They had practiced plenty of times. But she had to remind herself that this wasn't practice. This was a proper fight, their first. They would both have to treat it as such.

"Good luck." Jared called across to her. Already he was being far too nice. That wasn't good. He couldn't be nice while in a fight, certainly not to his opponent. That would only weaken him.

"Don't go easy on me." She warned him, before putting a mouth guard that she had brought with her around her upper jaw. "I won't go easy on you."

Jared's confidence quickly shot down after that, and his face paled slightly. It was really sinking in now, but it was too late to back down.

"Combatants, take your places."

Aaren raised her hands up in front of her face, fists clenches, and slid her right leg back and apart so that she stood sideways on to her opponent. Jared mimicked her movements, though slightly more sloppily. This was going to be something worth witnessing. They had both done so much training together over the past month. Now she would get to see how much he had learned.

The adjudicator raised his arm high above his head, his fingers pointed and flat. After a passing three seconds he swung it downward in a harsh chop through the air.

"Begin!"

Aaren could have gone easy on Jared. A part of her – the mothering part she had learned to repress – wanted to. But that would not have helped him. He had to learn to take fighting seriously, and he had to learn that the hard way.

She came at him with a left hook punch first. Through the rigorous training he had taken, Jared instinctively blocked it with his right arm. His hand flinched open slightly as her fist struck it. She mentally scolded him. He was still letting his body loosen after being struck. How was he supposed to hold out against a combination of attacks if he let his body weaken after one.

Continuing her assault, she swung her left arm around in a chopping motion towards his unprotected neck. Jared quickly retaliated, striking the open hand away and pushing her arm downwards, just as they had practiced. Aaren followed up with a roundhouse kick, which Jared ducked underneath and hopped backwards out of reach. So far he was focusing on avoiding her attacks, rather than attempting to land his own. She had to encourage him to fight back, else it wouldn't take much to push him into a corner where she could pulverise him with ease.

Taking a few steps back to create a short distance between them, Aaren sharply sprinted at him, pulling her right arm back for a proper punch. This was something she had done time and again during their training. The run up was a distraction, something to make him flinch and panic. The real danger in her attack wasn't the speed of her movement. She had always done her best to implicate her Quirk during their sparing, so that Jared would be prepared for expecting the unexpected in an actual fight. If he had remembered this lesson, he would follow up this threat with the appropriate reaction.

For a moment Jared seemed scared, but that passed in a flash. Aaren could see him recalling the training at that moment, remembering what had happened the previous times she had done this. Aaren was still moving, still attacking, yet now he seemed much calmer than he ought to be. When she swung at him, Jared didn't react. Her fist was about to collide with his forearms, but still Jared didn't move. By this point it was too late for Aaren to pull back, but neither she nor Jared were concerned by this.

Her hand passed through his arms, as she had planned, and headed instead for his face, regaining its physical presence before doing so.

This was exactly what Jared had been preparing for. The moment he saw her fist passing through his arms, he began to move. He sharply shifted his head to the left, leaning his body around the punch. Aaren's clenched hand missed his cheek by only an inch. He had avoided her attack, bruise free.

Now that he had predicted her attack, he was able to counter it. He swung his left arm upwards, striking Aaren in her unprotected chin.

To Aaren's impressed surprise, Jared had been the one to land the first blow.

She stumbled backwards, feeling the bruise form on her lower jaw, tasting her own spit as it welled in her mouth. The punch reverberated through her skull. She hadn't expected it to hurt so much. Either she was not as resilient as she had always assumed or Jared's punches were getting better. Through the pain she was able to smile at him, proud that he could land such a well-placed, well timed hit on her.

Well, that made it very clear for her. She couldn't go easy on him anymore. He was ready to experience a proper fight.

Before either of them had a proper chance to breathe and recover, Aaren was charging back in to attack. Jared assumed she was attempting a similar attack to before, as she had her right arm pulled back once more. So he blocked his face with his forearms just as he had before.

This was his mistake, however. Aaren had been expecting him to defend, and decided to aim for the areas of his body which he wasn't protecting. Instead of punching at his face, she instead lowered her head and rammed into his chest, tackling him and grabbing him by the waist. Jared yelped in surprise as her head struck his stomach. Considering that Aaren was a rather short young woman, it was terrifying to learn that she was strong enough to lift Jared almost an inch off the ground. She threw him into the barrier, and he ricocheted off it and onto the soft floor of the ring.

She could hear the crowd wince and cheer. Aaren could make out the shouts of their friends from amongst the other calls. It felt strange to know that the others were trying to encourage her. She focused her mind away from the audience and back onto Jared, who was now pushing himself back onto his feet.

The blow to his stomach had left him winded and wincing. He was clutching it tightly with both hands. Aaren felt guilty about hurting him, but she hardened her emotions. This was a fight, she couldn't go easy on him. Before he'd even had a chance to recover she was preparing her next attack.

"I believe in you, Jared!"

The shout stood out amongst the many cheers and calls from the crowd. Aaren paused upon hearing it. That was Maisie's voice. Out of everyone she had expected to hear shouting at them, she was at the bottom of the list.

Jared had also heard her encouragement. Rapidly his pained expression changed to one of surprise. Then it hardened into confidence. Knowing that the girl who was his best friend was trying to encourage him had filled him with further courage. He stood up and faced Aaren once more, ignoring the pain in his stomach and any doubt in his heart. He was ready to continue the fight.

Aaren was impressed that he could keep going. Many people would have stopped after an attack like that. She admired his determination, and now she had to respect it by pushing him further.

This time it was Jared who attacked first. He went for a simple, sharp punch aimed at her face, which she blocked easily. She followed up with a roundhouse kick, which he also blocked, only the impact of her foot against his arm made him flinch in pain and recoil slightly. Jared recovered quickly and darted back, gaining some distance between himself and his opponent.

The fight continued on in a similar way for a while. Jared or Aaren would go in for an attack, which the other would block. They would then counter and either land an attack on their defence or miss by a narrow centimetre. They would then move backwards, gaining some distance from their opponent in preparation to attack again.

Two minutes had passed since the fight began. Still they were at a stalemate. Aaren had started to go easy on him again, which she scolded herself for. She had promised that she wouldn't do that. She had to change this situation quickly.

As Jared came in to attack, she responded with the technique she had taught him over and over again. Blocking his punch, she struck out with her foot and hit him in the ankle. She caught hold of his arm, turned, and pulled forwards. She lifted Jared over her back and threw him to the ground.

At first it seemed that her attack had winded him, but moments later he was lashing out with a swift kick. His feet struck Aaren's chest, pushing her backwards. She almost fell onto her back with the force of the unexpected attack. She caught the barrier with her hand and held herself up, her legs weak underneath her. She was impressed that he could strike her down in such a sudden way.

The both of them were back onto their feet, breathing heavily but still able to fight. Aaren had improved so much since they started training together. Now that they were facing each other in combat she could see just how far he had come. A move that had once left him unable to fight was now easily walked off. Not only that, he was using it to his advantage, striking her while in a vulnerable position to knock her off balance and regain the upper hand. She felt so very proud of him at that moment, seeing the fighter he was starting to become.

They continued to brawn for another minute, landing punches and blocking kicks, Jared having to avoid Aaren's tricky Quirk at the same time. Now that their time was halfway up, Aaren realised she would really have to start pushing him, and began utilizing her Quirk in regular attacks to throw him off kilter. It was beginning to work. The more she used it, the more unsure Jared became of which attacks were intended to hit him or to pass through his defence.

While assuming that one of her punches would hit him in the forearm, it instead passed through them and into his face. It then passed through that, properly surprising him. He then realised too late that he hadn't been paying attention to Aaren's legs, and was swiftly kicked in the side of the head by her naked heel.

He went down again, rolling until he reached the barrier. He had to use it to stand up again.

Aaren moved in a circle around him, forcing him to follow her, to keep his defences up. He was clearly getting tired now, the blow to his head stunning him a little. She was impressed that he had stood up after that attack, though he was clearly struggling. His legs were shaking with fatigue. She wondered if she should let him retire from the fight, but doubted he would accept that. He was as keen to keep fighting as she was.

Knowing that he was losing, Jared started to play more offensively. He went on the attack more and more, forcing Aaren to defend against his punches. If he had had her Quirk he would had probably beat her shortly afterward. Even without a unique power he was managing to push her back, forcing her to skitter and dodge as well as block. He aimed for her legs with fast and low kicks, and while sometimes Aaren was quick enough to avoid them, other tines it was her Quirk that had to safe her. She didn't like using it for defensive reasons, as this could to easily backfire on her. Making your feet become intangible allowed for them to slide into the ground.

She was astounded that Jared could press her life this. She had been on the losing side of a fight before, but never against someone like him. The boy who had seemed so timid and unsure when it came to real combat was now overpowering her.

She couldn't let that happen. She was the master here.

She struck out with her leg, aiming for Jared's foot as he moved for a punch. Ducking underneath the strike, he buried her heel into his ankle, and heard a crack. Jared exclaimed in pain and fell forwards, towards her. Immediately she rose up, grabbing his chest with both hands and squeezing him in a bear-like grip. With a sharp turn she threw him down into the ground. The impact was sudden and hard. Jared gasped, saliva flying from his open mouth.

It seemed for a second that the fight was over, but before anyone could decide if it was Jared was rolling over and pushing himself onto his knees.

Aaren watched him try to stand. He could barely support his weight anymore. She had hit his ankle hard, and his foot was limp and apparently sending sharp pain up his leg. He stood leaning against the barrier, his injured leg lifted slightly above the ground. With an injury like that he couldn't keep fighting. He could barely stand anymore.

She was shocked when he tried to run at her, hobbling with his injured leg behind him. He swung at her with a fist, his arm rigid and extended. He was forgetting what she had taught him, to the extent that his punches were becoming pathetic. She could see that he was struggling, and yet still he was fighting her. He ought to give up, for his own sake. He would only hurt himself further.

"Jared-" She began, but was stopped by another punch that struck her blocking forearm. More punches followed after that, weak but fast, limp but powerful.

Finally he managed to hit her, catching her cheek as she was moving to dodge another of his punches. It hit her with such force that she lost her balance and stumbled backwards into the barrier.

The crowd of students were roaring with excitement. Originally they had been expecting an easy win for Aaren, but now Jared was getting the upper hand, even though he had an injury. He was somehow still going, though he was clearly in pain.

Jared attacked again, throwing punches wildly. Aaren blocked and avoided them, and was eventually forced to retaliate. She struck his hand away and jabbed him twice in the chest, hitting his ribs and making his lungs clench. He coughed and stumbled backwards. While he was stunned, she attacked again, tripping his good foot out from underneath him. Jared hit the floor hard, landing on his side.

Aaren stood over him, looking down upon him. She felt awful for hurting him, but she fought against the guilt in her heart. She couldn't let that get the better of her right now. Jared was still moving, still struggling and rolling on the floor, trying to get back up.

"Stay down, Jared." Aaren quietly warned him. "You'll get hurt if you stand up again."

Jared continued to push himself to his feet, struggling to stand but only just managing. His left foot was limp while his right had to support the weight of his body. His breathing was quick and weary, his arms were shaking with fatigue. He couldn't go on much longer.

Yet still he was standing, trying to stay in the fight. He looked at Aaren, saw how concerned she was for him, and only smiled weakly back at her.

"Never!" He stated, his stern gaze fixed upon hers.

Aaren was now very worried for him. He wasn't giving up, even though he was clearly exhausted and injured. She didn't want to hurt him any further. All she had wanted was to test him, to push him, but now they had gone too far. Any further and he would actually get hurt. But she couldn't convince him to surrender. He was too keen to fight, too desperate to win, too stubborn to give up. Though Aaren was scared for him, she couldn't help but feel proud that he was pushing himself so hard.

The fight had become like a dance now, both of the participants moving around the other cautiously and wearily. Jared's attacks were coming slower and weaker than they had before. Aaren only had to defend against them with little effort, and each time she did she was given the chance to counter attack with ease. No matter how many times she knocked him down, Jared stood back up. No matter how battered and bruised he was, he kept on fighting. Aaren considered giving up for his sake, but while that would have spared his body it would have hurt his confidence. She could see determination in his eyes. If she ended the fight prematurely and let him win he would never forgive her. He wanted to win by his own merits... but he was in no state to do so.

Finally the fight was brought to a close with a ring of the bell. Their five minutes were up.

Jared and Aaren both left the ring, with her having to help him limp out of the ring. Immediately a medic was running over to examine his foot. He hadn't broken any bones, but the muscle was bruised. They could speed up its recovery, though it would still take a day to heal properly. Once that was resolved, the two of them went to speak to the adjudicator to find out who had been decided as the winner.

Aaren's arm was held up above her head by the trainer martial arts referee, deciding her as the victor of the fight.

Aaren looked at the crowd, their cheering deafening her. Faces who had before never so much as noticed her before were now shouting her name. It felt strange to see that, when she had done little to associate herself with most of them. Even the students who she didn't particularly like were celebrating her victory. For one of the first times in her life she felt proud of her talent. It was no longer just something she knew.

She had seen her victory coming, so that alone didn't surprise her much. She hadn't expected such a celebration for it, however.

Jared had also seen it coming. Though he was disappointed at his loss, he was also happy that she had won.

"Congrats, Aaren." He said to her as they returned to their seats. "That was a good fight."

Aaren would have agreed if she hadn't witnessed him push himself too far. Watching one of the few people she could call her friend limp around a fighting ring, covered in bruises and balancing on one leg would forever haunt her with guilt. She had pushed him to fight. He had chosen not to give up. She had to know what had been going through his head.

"Why didn't you back down?" She asked.

Jared's smile faded, and his expression became stern and defiant. "How could I?" He asked rhetorically. "I was doing so well. I couldn't let myself give up so easily."

"But you were injured." Aaren reminded him. "Backing out at that point would have made sense. No one would have judged you for it."

"I would have." Jared told her. She could hear the disappointment in his voice, the self-hatred. "If I had stayed down at that point, I would never have stood up again."

"Getting metaphorical, are we?" Aaren asked with a chuckle. At least his personality wasn't hurt.

"I will never stop fighting, Aaren." He told her with determination. "I will keep fighting until I can't stand. And if I can't stand, I will crawl, and if I can't crawl I will drag what remains of me across the ground until I reach my goal."

"Admirable..." Aaren retorted, "...but unrealistic." What had those heroes been saying to him? Had he gotten any silly ideas from them during their meeting earlier that day?

"I don't care how unrealistic it is." Jared murmured, more to himself than to her. "I won't give up, no matter how hopeless my struggles may seem. I will keep fighting until my body breaks and my heart stops beating... and then I'll continue to fight even more!"

This was the first time Aaren had felt scared for him. Would he honestly risk his life like that? Perhaps he was only exaggerating. No one would honestly push themselves that hard for something so trivial.

But when she looked in his eyes, she found that her concerns were legitimate.

He was not exaggerating. He truly would keep fighting... until his body gave up.

* * *

 **So again I tried to write a shorter chapter, and again it ended up longer than I intended. I don't know how I keep managing this, it must be some kind of superpower.**

 **I'm going to spend a bit of time off after new years, to relax and get some energy back, as well as work on new ideas and plan out the next few chapters. I know what I want them to be about, I just want to make sure those ideas work in execution.**

 **Since we're entering a new decade as well as a new year, I've decided to make a promise to myself. Next year I will try harder to get more chapters up, I will work on writing more, improving in the areas I'm not so good at and making this story twice as good as it already is. That is my promise to you guys. I can't promise you'll have a new chapter soon, but I will do everything I can to get one out before the end of January.**

 **I'm also going to start leaving a question for you guys to answer, as I want to get my readers more involved in my work. You don't have to answer it, as there's no reward for doing so, but it'll be interesting to hear what your answers to these questions are.**

 **So here's the first question I have for you guys:** _ **Who's your favourite character from this story, and why?**_

 **You don't have to post an essay in responce, just a short sentence is fine. It would be very intriguing to hear what your answers are.**

 **So, have a good night, get lots of rest, eat plenty and have a great last day of 2019. I'll see you all in the new year!**


	39. Chapter 34 - To Catch a Criminal

**Yorke Victorsson**

 _[November 26th]_

* * *

It had been a last minute decision to take the students to a martial arts arena. It was also a last minute decision to give them the following day off to rest. Having seen the students take part in their activities and show honest interest and effort in all of them, Ravenhead suggested that they be given a day to rest and relax. The last few days would be the most trying and demanding, and he felt they deserved this time to recover before then.

Not all of the teachers agreed with his suggestion, however.

"If we indulge them like this too often they'll become complacent." Madam argued, not quite convinced that a full day's rest was necessary. "Once we get back to Galafrei they'll have a week of for half term holidays. That seems like a more appropriate time for them to rest."

Ravenhead had expected this response, and prepared his argument to convince them "It's already been a long couple of days, and yet they've been working hard." He reminded the other heroes around him. "Not all of them have been star pupils, but most of them have behaved and taken part in the activities made available to them. True, we haven't exactly given them any especially demanding tasks yet, but simply being in a new place, away from home for several days can be exhausting in itself. They'll want this rest, and considering what they'll be doing tomorrow they'll be grateful for it."

"It's hardly indulgence." Dubstep added, raising a flat-tipped finger. "One day to rest and recuperate vill not turn them into couch potatoes."

"That may be true..." Aries responded, "...but we should still be careful about what we let them get away with. Letting them buy takeaways, for example."

He trailed of, as Dubstep's lips formed an embarrassed yet also smug smirk. "Vell, I made sure they paid for it themselves, and if they end up regretting that choice in the end they have only themselves to blame."

"What if they get food poisoning?" Aries countered.

Niko Mikhaelov's smug expression quickly faded into nothing. "Good point." He murmured under his breath.

"Let's just hope that their chefs were competent and their kitchen was properly cleaned."

"Anyway..." Ravenhead interrupted them, trying to get back to his subject matter. "...with that aside, letting the students take a break for a day or two will give them time to breath and plan ahead. They know what they're going to be doing, so perhaps they'll use this time to prepare and make sure they have all the clothing, gadgets and equipment they want."

"How many of them use gadgets?" Cyanide inquired. "Apart from Juno Kingston in the Seniors, and Jared Wreath and Maisie Collard in the Juniors, the other students mostly rely on their Quirks."

"They should use this time to do whatever preparing they need to do." Ravenhead corrected himself, a little annoyed to have a fellow teacher and hero picking apart his points. "It doesn't matter much _what_ they chose to do, so long as it helps them and doesn't hinder any of the others."

"Ve'd best keep a close eye on the Andersons then." Dubstep suggested, his chuckle now returning.

"I suppose you are right, Yorke." Madam conceded. "Anyways, it's too late to change the situation. The activity meant for today has fallen through, so we might as well let them have the day off. It can't be helped."

Madam sounded oddly sad about that. They had been intending to take the students to visit one of several Hero Movement Museums stations around both sides of the wall in Galafrei and Scarow. However, that night some drunken fool had broken into one of the cleaner's cupboards at the back of the building, dressed themselves in a mop, several buckets, a few cones and an overall and had wandered about the museum, disturbing the night guards and claiming that they were a wizard. The museum's curator had announced that the site would be closed to the public until the mess could be cleaned up, which would apparently take some time as the drunk had knocked over several exhibitions, including: a vial of highly viscous liquid, a full-sized plastic dummy display of the heroes who founded the Hero Movement, a set of sharpened finger bones from the criminal _Chimera_ , and several strands of unbreakable hair from the hero _Keratin_ suspended in a glass case. In any case, they would not be visiting before they had to leave for Galafrei again.

"We still need to discuss tomorrow." Aries continued, wanting to bring attention to the matter.

The teachers had already discussed their plan for this final activity. It would take place on Friday the 27th and Saturday the 28th, crossing over into the two days for a full forty-eight hour experience. The students would be split up into five groups – three groups of Juniors and two groups of Seniors; one group for each present teacher. With their teacher's assistance and guidance, the groups would get to experience real hero missions. They would be expected to take on any and all tasks placed before them as a group.

Of course the teachers would make sure that they were never given any missions that seemed too dangerous or complex for them. They would be getting small tasks or lower danger tasks for now. The problem was deciding on these tasks. Out of the seven members of staff at BHA, only five were taking part. Cutter had still not joined them, apparently stuck with his current mission which had proved trickier to complete than first thought. Madam was also not taking part, though that was no surprise to anyone. Nobody expected the headmistress to do the same menial work as the teachers.

"The nearby headquarters has agreed to let us involve the students in headhunting." Madam spoke up, her arms folded across her lap. "Thankfully they've not had any recent incidents to change matter. They've even lent us a couple of uncollected warrants, so we have an idea of who and what is currently wanted and walking free."

The warrants sat in a pile at the centre of the small polished wood table, and Cyanide had already started passed them across. From time to time the teachers would glance at the sheets and pick one up. Ravenhead struggled a little to lift them off the slippery surface without his talons ripping the paper, but Aries gave him a hand.

"I suggest we put all of the more serious cases to the side." Cyanide suggested, lifting up a sheet she had been holding, which depicted a criminal named _'Limpet'_ , who was covered almost completely in open mouths full of human teeth. Underneath his crimes were listed as _'Multiple Murders, Attempted Murders and Cannibalism.'_ "We can start by excluding this one." She placed the paper face down at the side of the pile.

"You truly believe that the students are up for this?" Silver Streak asked, finally sturring from the grumpy mood he seemed to be in. None of them quite knew what had annoyed him.

"They can manage small tasks well enough." Aries told him. "You should put more faith in them."

"Faith." Silver Streak scoffed. "That'll keep them alive."

"Not sleeping well, Peter?" Dubstep asked, sassily. "Or is this daddy issues again?"

Peter Jensen Jr ignored the eastern European hero. He instead turned his eyes to the avian hero sitting two seats to his right. "Was bringing them to Scarow not enough? You want them to be put in more danger?"

The other teachers looked at Ravenhead as well. He stared back, knowing that they expected an answer. He could tell that most of them disagreed with Jensen's comments, but still they were curious of his thoughts.

"Bravery and determination are what makes a hero..." He reasoned philosophically. "...but experience is what refines one. None of us got to this point by sitting back and doing nothing. We need to encourage this in them too."

"Indeed." Madam agreed. "Youths need something to motivate them. They have spirit, determination, ideals, but they need a prod to make them move."

The other teachers gave her surreptitious sideways glances, knowing full well how she had made it as a hero. None of them had fathers who would pay massive quantities of cash to buy the best teachers and trainers in America so that their darling children could have everything they ever wanted and needed. They had worked hard to earn their positions.

"That's rich coming from you." Silver Streak whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Meaning what?" Ravenhead knew that he was trying to provoke him. He knew it, and yet he couldn't stop his feathers from rustling or his muscles from clenching.

"It doesn't take much bravery to sit in front of a camera and talk about why people should work hard to become heroes." Silver Streak told him defiantly. "Maybe your words of wisdom would mean more if you actually did any _real_ hero work to back them up."

"Peter, this is not the time or the place for this!" Cyanide snapped at him, appalled at his behaviour.

The others weren't especially impressed by it either. It was rather taboo to mock another hero's work in mixed company, certainly in this sort of manner.

"If you two have a problem with each other, save it for when we get back to Galafrei." Madam interrupted before an argument could break out. Ravenhead was grateful for her intervention. He would have punched Silver Streak if she hadn't stepped in at that point. "Regardless of your issues with the subject, Peter, the assignment will go ahead as planned. There's no time left to change it anymore. We'll have to make sure that any risks are dealt with and the students are given the right prodding to move them forwards."

"Prodding a cow when it stands at the edge of a cliff will not help it fly." Silver Streak retorted in his own philosophical way. "You will only make it jump into the abyss. What then? What if they never manage to climb back out? What if the fall kills them?"

"Can we just remind ourselves that this is a metaphorical suggestion, please?" Cyanide interrupted him. "We are not trying to lead cattle to a slaughterhouse, Peter. We are attempting to train the next generation of heroes. As has already been said, if there are any warrants which the students are obviously not ready to take on, we will avoid them. We've been guiding them since September, and so far we've made sure they avoid the tasks which they aren't ready for.

"This is different." The metal hero pointed a thin finger at her, the golden band on that hand's ring finger twisting by itself around his taut skin. "We didn't have to worry about dangerous variables back in Galafrei. We do now that we're here, within the wall. You know what sort of people lurk in this city.

The other heroes had no response for that. The truth was, they did know. They had all worked in Scarow at least once during their careers. The awful things they had seen. The ways in which human beings could be so cruel to one another.

Silver Streak pointed his finger into the table. "Simply being here is putting them all at risk. It may only be seven days, but that's enough time for a disaster to happen. Until now we've been able to keep them sheltered, inside, away from this city and its inhabitants. But if we go through with this, if they go out into this city, if they meet the people that walk its filthy streets–!"

"Peter!"

Aries' voice cut through the growing snarl of Peter Jensen Jr. The two heroes glared at each other. Slowly Silver Streak calmed down, exhaling deeply. His eyes were still full of anger though, anger not just at Aries but at all of his colleagues... and perhaps at something else.

"We can't guarantee their safety here." The silver hero continued in a much quieter voice this time. "You may have forgotten this fact, but every time one of us goes out onto those streets we risk losing our lives. Every now and then, one of us doesn't come back. It's awful, but it happens. We can't do that to those kids. They aren't ready for that."

"It won't happen." Ravenhead reassured him. "Not while we are here."

"You think so?" Silver Streak stood up, his focus once more solely upon the avian hero. "I wonder what you would say to their parents if it did? You might be brave enough to stop criminals and fight crime, Yorke, but are you brave enough to look a grieving mother in the eyes... and admit that you _fucked up_?"

Ravenhead's beak twitched. He chose not to respond. Silver Streak was trying to upset him, trying to make him angry, and he would not stoke that flame. Apparently the metal hero was not done with his speech though.

"If one of those kids gets hurt, it is us who are responsible." He told them with a dark glare. "And if one of them _dies_... it is us who killed them."

He left the room after that, leaving through the sliding door. Briefly the room was filled with the bright light of the recreational room beyond, then it went back into its dim darkness, illuminated only by a single large lantern upon the table.

"Ignore him, Raven." Dubstep said, trying to raise a cheerful mood after that talking to. "Peter is... on his time of the month. Don't listen to his pessimistic words. Ve can take care of these kids, ve've been doing so for over three months now."

Ravenhead nodded respectfully. He was glad that at least the Russian man was able to shine a more optimistic light upon the conversation. All the same, he felt that Silver Streak had a point. They were putting the students in danger by bringing them to Scarow. He had known that beforehand, but he was starting to doubt himself. Had it been such a bad idea. So far everything had gone fine. None of the students were hurt or threatened or missing, and apart from that small scare with Jared Wreath and the climbing wall there had been nothing to suggest any sort of peril that the students were in. They would have to keep their eyes open though, just in case.

"Right then, shall we get back to the subject at hand?" Madam asked.

"What about Peter?" Cyanide said.

"We can start by compiling all of the warrants fit for the students, and putting aside the ones that are too risky." Aries told her. "Then, once he's calmed down, he can join us and decide which ones he'll have his group undertake."

This suggestion was reasonable, and the others agreed to it.

"Do you think the Senior students should be made to deal vith slightly tougher targets?" Dubstep asked.

"They are older than the Juniors, but they are not necessarily more experiences." Cyanide told him. "I think it would be best that we gave each of the groups the same challenge difficulty range."

" _Khorosho_." The Russian man exclaimed. Ravenhead didn't know much Russian, though spending time with Niko had allowed him to pick up a few words and phrases. Usually he didn't revert to them very often, as he had lived in England for a while now and preferred not to speak his first language around the other heroes if he could help it. Russians didn't have the best reputation in the world at the moment, for some time. Sometimes though a few words slipped through the cracks. If Ravenhead remembered correctly, _Khorosho_ meant something along the lines of _okay_ or _good_ in a positive, conversational sense. You learn something new every day... though admittedly what you learn isn't always useful.

"Who's this guy?" Cyanide pondered, picking up another sheet from the pile.

Madam looked at it from beside her. " _Meffu-zee-lah_?" He read in confusion.

Aries took the warrant from her and looked at it himself. " _Methuselah_." He corrected her.

"Don't think I've heard of him." Dubstep pondered.

"Wait a minute..." Madam snapped her fingers. "I've heard that name before. He's that criminal who's been trying to take over all the gangs in Scarow. He even tried to take over the local mafia at one point."

That sounded serious.

"Has he succeeded?" Cyanide asked.

"I doubt it. That's a very big goal to set yourself. One man certainly couldn't do it." He put the paper upon the discard pile. "Regardless, I don't think we'll be sending our students out to capture someone who openly deals with the mafia. Any other suggestions.

"This one might be worth looking into." Madam suggested, pointing to one of the pages that Cyanide had laid out. "A small time criminal with an extensive record and multiple arrests for attempts at petty theft. It seems this time he's managed to get away, and the police haven't been able to find him." She pushed the paper across the table. "Perhaps that one would be more fitting for the juniors."

"It might be a bit easy." Aries thought. "The only tough part will be finding him, and even that won't be so challenging if he's been caught several times before."

"We should hold onto it regardless." Ravenhead told him. "What's the target's name?"

"James Yeoman." Said Aries. "Apparently he's known as _Ratty_. There's notes here about places he's been known to frequent and the kind of targets he looks for."

"There's another thief varrant here." Dubstep interrupted, waving a paper sheet gripped between his fingers. He looked across the table at Ravenhead. "I think this one's a friend of yours."

He threw the sheet across to him, and it rolled and glided through the air and onto the floor by his chair legs. Niko rolled his lip awkwardly. Ravenhead picked it up, thankful that he could grip the rolled up paper between his sharp talons. He opened it.

The moment he saw the face of the criminal he sighed in disappointment. A man not much unlike himself; covered in black feathers and with a long beak at the centre of his face, filled the mugshot displayed on the page. The name of the man was familiar too.

"Magpie." He muttered.

"He's at it again?" Aries asked, knowing too well who this individual was.

"It seems so." Ravenhead shook his head. "Damn him. No matter how many times we lock him up, he doesn't get the message."

"He's a kleptomaniac." Aries reminded him. "It's an addiction for him. He doesn't even need most of the stuff he takes, he certainly doesn't sell it. He's never going to stop. It would be best to just keep him locked up, or at least keep a close eye on him."

Ravenhead shrugged and smiled with defeat. "I suppose... but I had to try, didn't I."

"Do you vant this one, Yorke?" Dubstep asked, leaning his elbows on the table in intrigue.

"I might as well. I know him best. He's not dangerous, so the students won't be in any danger of him. I'll make sure that they don't bring anything shiny with them, though. Just in case."

"He steals shiny stuff?" Cyanide asked. She laughed slightly. "As you'd expect from a magpie I suppose."

"Does everyone vith an animal Quirk have that sort of habit?" Dubstep asked. "I mean, other than the look, you're not especially raven-like, neither is he especially goat-like." He pointed at Ravenhead and then at Aries. "I can't say you're an intelligent man, and I've never seen him eat grass either."

"Thanks for the complements, Niko." Ravenhead murmured hollowly. His colleague's cheeky grin got to him, and he ended up cracking a smile too.

"Ma'am..." Aries announced suddenly, catching the attention of everyone in the room. "I forgot to mention it earlier, but I will be in custody of Walter Thalassa once more over the next two days. I understand the concern for him being around the students, but to that extent he will have two armed officers with him the whole time..."

"And that did a lot of good." Niko interrupted. "Vhen Jared Wreath fell from that climbing vall, he ran straight at him. His guards veren't able to stop him. Ve're lucky he didn't try to kill the poor boy."

"I was there, Mr. Mikhaelov. I saw what happened." Aries responded. "Even if he had tried, he couldn't have done much to Master Wreath. I had made sure before letting him near the students that his muzzle was fastened tightly and securely. I will do so again tomorrow before he is allowed within twenty metres of the class."

"There are other vays to kill people." Niko reminded him. "More than just using your teeth. That may be his modus operandi, but you honestly think he von't attempt to use other methods?"

It seemed that with Silver Streak out of the room, Dubstep had taken his place as the concerned yet aggressive disapprover. That was not so far out of Niko's character, he had already expressed concern for the idea before. After that one moment of panic they had all been more cautious about the suggestion.

Madam, out of all of them, should have been the most concerned. This was her academy. She ran it. She organised it. If something went wrong, she would get the most blame. Yet as she had been before the trip, she seemed to be rather relaxed about the subject. It didn't create such worry in her as it did her employees.

"Niko, your concerns are reasonable, but perhaps we are getting a little too worried about a possibility that may never come to pass. Yes, Mr Thalassa is a murderer, and his actions thus far have been unusual. We should most certainly keep our eyes on him. However, he has claimed that he wants to change, to move away from that lifestyle. If Aries believes him, I think we should believe him to. We should try and help him get out of that lifestyle, even if at times he does something that makes us worry."

"Well spoken, Ma'am." Aries nodded in appreciation.

"Though I will add..." Madam continued, her voice quietening. "...if he should do anything to harm these students... absolutely anything... I will make sure that you face the same wrath as him. He is your responsibility, after all." She was glaring at the horned man, her expression more menacing than anything anyone could have expected. The teachers had all guessed that Madam Destiny Broadhurst had a darker side to her fluffy, pink personality, but they hadn't expected it to be so sinister. Kameron had never looked so terrified in his life.

"Yes, Ma'am." He gulped.

"Good." Madam stated, snapping back to her usual upbeat personality. "Now that that has been sorted out, let's get back to business."

And business went on for a few hours longer, consisting of scanning through the pile of warrants and picking out which would be appropriate for their students to take on. Then came the discussion over who should take on which of these warrants. Every half hour the teachers would switch out with each other to keep an eye on the students, most of whom were hanging out in the dining room or lounge.

It was eight at night when Ravenhead took his turn. In another two hours the students both Junior and Senior would all be ushered up into their rooms. Right now though they were all still awake, playing cards in small groups, watching news on the television, chatting in groups at tables and picking at cold takeaways. It was rather charming to look upon this scene. From a distance it looked to be peaceful. There were no fights breaking out, no shouting – at least not often or for long – no running around like lunatics, no alcohol in sight... nothing to directly suggest that there was anything afoot. It made him feel like he was the parent of a large, loving family.

Of course this didn't last very long. Eventually a fight did break out, between – of all people – Tate and Mitchell Anderson. The physical brother was squeezing at the see-through space where his twin's neck would be, only his fingers had passed through it. The non-physical brother was trying to push him back, and both of them were shouting in fury.

"You cheating bastard!" Tate yelled, trying to throttle the ghost.

"Sore looser!" Mitchell yelled back.

"You did not have a royal flush in your hand when we agreed to show our cards!"

"I so did! How do you expect me to steal cards when I can barely hold them?"

"Don't lie to me! You can hold those cards just fine!"

Proving his brother's point, Mitchell threw the remnants of the deck at Tate's head. Tate recoiled in surprise, swiping away the fluttering cards that fell down around him.

Before the fight could go any further, Ravenhead attempted to break it up.

"Anderson!" He stated firmly. That made them stop. The teachers had learned that simply shouting their surname made the twins freeze in fear. It was a good way of getting them to stop whatever shenanigans they were up to.

"Sir, Mitchell was swapping his cards." Tate complained.

"I was not!" Mitchell insisted spitefully.

They were just like children, the both of them. Technically they were, but sixteen year olds ought to act a bit more mature than this.

"You understand that if I punish one of you I will have to punish the other too." Ravenhead told them, picking the right cards to play against his opponents. "Seeing as how you're connected by the navel, I can hardly put you in different room away from each other. I could put you in a room with Mr Jensen though. I'm sure he'd enjoy that."

The twins went pale. They got the message.

"Sorry, Sir. We didn't mean to disturb everyone." Tate muttered feebly.

"Sorry." Mitchell joined it.

Ravenhead didn't like Silver Streak. He also did not like making that kind of threat. But both he could put up with if it meant that order was kept. He could at least manage these unfavourable things if he combined them. No one at BHA wanted to be left alone in a room with Peter Jensen Jr.

Tate and Mitchell sat back down, not bothering to pick up the cards they had thrown. The others at their table had watched the fight, and were now emerging from underneath.

"You two are ridiculous." Freya – the only one who hadn't been able to hide under the table – told them with an unstoppable laugh. "You'll fight over anything with anyone. You'll even fight with each other. We could make a sport out of that."

"Ha ha ha." Tate said dryly, not looking at her. His cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Do you think we could play another game?" Payton asked.

Tate threw a card at him. It missed and fluttered down onto the table.

"We should make them gather the cards first." Jon said, not at all impressed by the childish behaviour of the Anderson. "Honestly, you two. You're training to be heroes, yet you act like five year olds."

"We can't all be stoic, intelligent colossuses like you and your uncle." Mitchell snapped at him. Jon was now glaring at them in anger.

Anyone know any other games?" Aaren asked before another fight could break out.

"I know rummy." Payton told her. "My dad and I used to play it when we went camping."

"All I know is Blackjack." Jared joined in, putting away his mobile phone. He had been staring at it during the fight, apparently texting someone.

"Isn't that the one where you try and match the cards?" Tate asked.

"No, that's snap." Jared told him.

"And you can't play that with one deck." Payton added.

"How do you play Blackjack?" Maisie asked, her question directed specifically at Jared. She had been quiet till now, barely noticing the fight going on around her. Her attention was focused instead upon two chopsticks, which she was snapping apart and trying to fix the wooden fragments back together. She was so enticed by this that she didn't notice that several cards had landed on her lap, or that there was remnants of sweet and sour sauce still on her lips.

Jared awkwardly turned to her. "Each player gets two cards to start with. The goal is to reach the number twenty-one without going over. You can increase your number by drawing more cards, but if you go over twenty-one you're out. The person with the highest number wins, and if two people have that number it's a draw."

"I'm not very good at maths." Maisie whined.

"It's not that tough. You just have to remember that aces can be both ones and elevens."

"Okay..." Maisie already looked confused.

"You'll get the hang of it." Payton reassured her.

"So, are we playing that next?" Freya asked.

"Sure, why not."

"Someone's got to get the cards back for us." Jon stated, eyes focused on the twins. They glared back.

"I'm sure you'd do it if you were able to move out of your chair." Mitchell said. "But then again, you might break the floor if you try."

Jon didn't respond to them. He knew it would only rile them up again. But Mitchell wasn't prepared to give up. He picked up the remnants of his Chinese takeaway and threw it across the table. Jon ducked under it, and it hit the wall harmlessly, leaving a patch of sweet and sour sauce behind.

"Stop with the wonton destruction!" Tate screamed comically.

Every single person at that table groaned in disbelief.

"I bet you think you're really smart right now." Payton muttered with a groan. Tate nodded with a wide smile.

"You'll have to clean that up now." Jon told them sternly.

"It looks like you shot someone." Payton jested, looking at the dark orange stain dripping down the wall.

The others actually laughed at that joke.

So did Ravenhead.

He was glad to see that his students were enjoying their time together. Though it was not total peace and quiet, it seemed that most of them were having a good time. He was very proud of them. They had all come a long way since the start of the year, some having larger hurdles to climb than others, and so far none of them had dropped out.

They were all starting to become the heroes they wanted to be.

He couldn't quite shake that nagging doubt, though. The concerns of his colleagues were starting to worry him as well. Had they made the right decision to come here? He had thought it was such a good idea before they left, but now...

He shrugged the feeling off. Of course it would be fine. There were six trained heroes looking after them, and it wasn't as if they hadn't prepared for any possibility. The police knew they were there, the Hero Movement knew they were there. If any of the students were to go missing there would be immediate concern and a thorough search for them. Nothing bad could happen to them, he was sure of that.

No... They would be fine.

* * *

 **Jared Wreath**

 _[November 27th]_

* * *

The next morning the students were being separated into groups. It annoyed most of them to learn that they couldn't choose which group they were in, instead the teachers were deciding. Unlike previous times, the classes would be separated, so the Juniors would be in different groups to the Seniors. But while many of the students were a little annoyed by this, none of them complained. There were too grateful for the chance they were being given.

Madam, Ravenhead and Cyanide had just finished explaining the plan for the next two days, going over concept, its purpose, the objective for the students and the general area they would be working. Most of the final task would remain in the Tivoli district, though some parts of it would take place at the edge of the district or in one of the neighbouring districts. Then came the calling of names for each group.

There were five groups in total; three for Junior and two for Senior. Jared was in Aries' group. It bothered him to hear that most of his friends had been put into other groups. Maisie, Aaren, Jon, Freya and the Andersons were in Ravenhead's group. The only other student he was friends with in his group was Payton. He was at least a little glad of that, but he had wanted to work with all of his friends for once. He had not yet had the chance to team up with Aaren and Maisie and Jon and Payton in a team of five. He supposed that there would be other chances for that, but it still bothered him.

"We can meet up again later anyway." Aaren reasoned, though she had already admitted to also being sad that he wasn't in their group. "We'll be able to chat about how our tasks went tonight."

"There's probably a reason for why we're in these groups." Jon told them. "Since the teachers picked them out. Perhaps you're with Aries because his targets are more suited to you."

That didn't exactly cheer Jared up. Many of the other students in his group were on the less capable end of the class spectrum. The other members were Niall Archer, Vikki Brail, Barbara Faraday, Anny Volksmarcher, Catherine Griffiths and Ty Urban. It wasn't fair to say that all of them weren't capable of putting up a fight, but most of them had talents that lay in other areas. He couldn't help but feel like he had been put in the bottom group, the one for the students who struggled the most. Again, that wasn't technically true. He knew that Payton, Niall and Barbara could fight well enough, as well as use their Quirks to their advantage in combat. Anny had also won her fight with Vikki in the Combat Exam, so she had to have some amount of skill. But even though he knew this, he couldn't help but feel that way.

"Perhaps." Jared agreed reluctantly.

"Can't we ask them to change it?" Maisie asked, sounding a little distraught to be separated from the only person she actually recognised as a friend.

"I don't think they will. They already told us we can't choose, and they picked us out for these groups." Jon said.

"Well, it won't be so bad." Tate stated with a grin. "At least now our group won't be dragged down by old Quirkless here."

None of the others were impressed by that comment. Jared did the wise thing and chose not to respond.

"Who knows, maybe our groups will run into each other." Freya suggested.

"We'll be working in different parts of the district." Jon corrected her. "Chances of us crossing paths are slim."

Jared tried to put on a hopeful smile, but he couldn't sustain it. "Well, I'll see you guys later, I guess."

"Yeah." Maisie said weakly. She looked like she might cry, but to Jared's impressed surprise she steeled herself and nodded a farewell.

As the majority of his friends were turning to leave, he reached out quickly and grabbed Aaren's wrist. In reflex she made her arm intangible the moment he touched her, but turned and stopped walking in surprise. His hand fell back to his side.

"Remember what I asked?" He asked, darting his eyes from Aaren to the back of Maisie Collard. Aaren followed his gaze.

"Yeah..." She whispered, looking uncomfortable about the question. "...I'll try, okay. I can't promise."

"Please, Aaren." Jared begged her. "Just... keep an eye on her, make sure she's okay."

As much as he could tell the request was bothering her, Aaren didn't let that discomfort get in the way of making a promise to her friend. She nodded with a firm expression. "I will."

"Thank you." Jared sighed with relief. He knew he could trust her.

Aaren turned, and with a final goodbye she ran to catch up with her now departing group.

"What was that about?" Payton asked.

"Nothing." Jared told him. He wasn't planning to let his other male friends see his concern, even though he knew that most of them were aware of his relationship with Maisie Collard. He had been questioned about it before, most often by Tate.

"Our group is leaving last, I think." Payton told him, deciding that pressing him further about that conversation wasn't worthwhile. "Don't know why."

"I don't think Aries is here yet either." Barbara interrupted. The eight of them were stood weighting in the reception, watching as Dubstep's group prepared to leave.

Within the eight Junior students stood near the doorway with the Russian hero, Jared spotted Jason looking back at him. To his surprise, the quick-tempered, aggressive young man gave him a passive and encouraging nod. Jared nodded back, returning the mutually respectful feeling. Jason had changed a lot since the Criminal Apprehension Exam. It had been such a short time to make such a drastic change. In fact he was hardly recognisable, save for the same red jacket and short black hair. Jared was proud of him. He had found a way to overcome his darkness. He had made a huge step towards becoming the hero he wanted to be. Now Jared had to catch up to him.

Something Supermassive had said to him during the interviews returned to the forefront of his thought.

 _"Everyone has a goal in life. Some people move quickly towards it and some move slowly, but everyone moves. It's okay to compete with someone else towards the same goal, but don't try and push yourself to move faster than you can go. Move at the speed which you need, not anyone else's."_

That comment felt a little more relevant now. Seeing his friends be placed into groups away from him, groups that appeared to collect more capable, higher grading students. Even Jason had shot past him now, going from a raging psycho to a calm and determined hard worker – though the raging psycho part of his personality was not completely gone. He couldn't help but feel that he had to catch up to them, he had to walk alongside them. He had to push himself towards his goal faster, or else they would leave him behind.

But Supermassive was probably right. If he tried to move as quickly as they did towards his goal, he would most likely falter and fall... and if that happened he wasn't sure he could get back up. He was not gifted with a Quirk like they were. He didn't have that advantage. He had to find other ways of facing the same trials. And even if he was at the back of the race and got to the finish line years after them, he knew that they would be waiting there for him, cheering him on.

He had thought a lot about what Supermassive had spoken about during their interview with him. The story of how he became a hero, the reason why he had chosen his hero name. It made Jared look at himself and ask what it was he wanted to achieve. Why did he want to be a hero? What did he want people to think of him? He wasn't sure about that yet. He had thought at first that he wanted only to be the first Quirkless hero, but was that enough? He didn't even know what he wanted his hero name to be.

"Hey, Payton."

"Yeah."

Jared paused, chewing his lip uncertainly. "Have you thought much about what you would name yourself as a hero?"

Payton Moon smiled widely, and his thin silky wings shuddered in anticipation. "I think I'll be _Moth Man_!" He stated excitedly.

"Like the legend?" Barbara asked.

"Yeah." Payton hissed. "At least, they say he's a legend. No one's ever been able to prove he _doesn't_ exist."

Unintentionally Jared had just opened up a massive can of worms that his group now had to deal with.

"You honestly believe all those dumb stories from eons ago?" Vikki asked, astounded.

"Well that's the thing." Payton told her conspiratorially. "Everyone says they're not real, there's no truth to them... but likewise, no one's ever prover that they _aren't_ true. What if the government is just trying to hush it up to stop us all from panicking?"

"So you actually believe that things like Bigfoot, Nessie, the Moth Man, Black Shuck, The Jersey Devil and the Beast of Bodmin Moore are real?" asked Barbara, just as astounded as Niall and Vikki. Jared had already been through this conversation. He knew how it always ended.

"I'm just saying..." Payton tapped his nose. "...we don't know about everything out there."

"Payton, this is the real world calling you, please wake up!" Barbara declared with a strike to the boys cheeks. She shocked him a little, possibly by accident. The static electricity jumped from her hands to his skin. "If things like that actually existed we would have plenty of sightings. Hunters, biologists, zoologists, all kinds of people would have found actually, physically evidence by now."

"Everyone thought that coelacanths didn't exist." Payton retorted. "But then guess what? They discovered that they actually do."

"Coelacanths were considered _extinct_." Niall corrected him. "They weren't mythical, there was plenty of fossil evidence for them. There's none for Bigfoot."

"And this was all ages ago anyway." Vikki interrupted. "Haven't most people just accepted that none of that crap is real?"

"Evidently some haven't." Barbara muttered, and both of them laughed.

"Oh you laugh now, but wait till someone finally finds one of them." Payton said with a pointing finger. "Then who'll be laughing?"

"You read too many comics." Niall told him with a pitiful shake of the head.

"There's probably a bunch of heroes out there named after those legends anyway." Jared said with a shrug, wanting to mostly stay out of this conversation, having experienced it before. He could feel his brain cells rapidly dying. "Bigfoot is most certainly gone, and Nessie. I don't know about Moth Man, I've never heard of a hero named that before. Jersey Devil is a new rising star in America."

They fell quiet, having exhausted themselves with this argument.

"What about you, Jared?" Barbara asked him once the ridiculous conversation had passed. "What would your hero name be?"

Jared looked downward, thinking hard. "I don't know."

"You could be the next Progenitor." Payton began to chuckle. "Maybe not Progenitor Junior, perhaps..." He thought with a finger on his chin. "Progenitor Jay?"

"No. I don't want to be a Progenitor." But Payton had made him think. "What would the child of a progenitor be?"

The group thought about that, reaching into the extent of their memory and knowledge, rummaging around for a word that fit into that spot.

"A progeny?" Barbara suggested.

Payton snapped his fingers together. "How about Progeny Wreath?"

Jared shook his head. "No, it's too similar. I don't want to be associated with my dad. I want to be my own person."

"Okay. Then what do you want to be known for?" Vikki asked.

Jared didn't know. He still hadn't thought of an answer to that question.

"I think most heroes pick their names based on their Quirks." Payton said, then paused. "Though, in your case, that's not really a viable option."

"Thanks." Jared muttered sarcastically.

"You've still got time to think of a name." Barbara reminded him. "We haven't been asked to come up with one yet, and that probably won't happen for a little while at least."

He supposed that she was right. It wasn't especially common for a trainee hero to decide on their hero name before finishing their studies. Though he did know – thanks to Supermassive – that most academies asked their students to think of their hero name in the first year, so it was likely that Jared would have to have some sort of answer by then.

Ultimately the conversation was cut short by the arrival of Aries. He was followed once more by the cuffed and muzzled villain known as Megalodon, along with two armed police officers escorting him. Upon arriving Megalodon muttered something that only Aries and the officers could hear. One of them nudged him in the stomach afterwards, which made the villain grunt, though that slowly turning to a chuckle.

"Alright, everyone ready to go?" He asked in declaration. Though the question was posed to the remaining eight students, Jared noticed that his eyes were focused more on the two students at the back of the group: Ty and Catherine. He couldn't hazard a guess why.

"Why is that criminal with us?" Vikki spoke up, asking the question that sat on everyone's mind.

"I told you before, Victoria, that Mr. Thalassa is here to help us." Aries reminded them. "Originally the intent was for you to study him and develop an understanding of the criminal mind. Now, however, he has found a second use. He knows the streets of Scarow rather well, and on top of that his nose is excellent at picking up specific scents. He will be helping us capture our targets today."

That sounded a little unconventional and risky of the openly cautious hero. Surely the police could have simply lent them a sniffer dog, especially considering they were willing to lend him a known criminal. But then again, Jared doubted he could instantly figure out what scent a dog had caught from its barks alone. That was one area where using the criminal made sense. But then the problem with that was communication, and the shark headed criminal may well decide not to supply it.

Aries waved a hand to quieten them. "I have already thought this through, so you don't need to be concerned. I understand it's unconventional, but I believe it will be beneficial." He turned to the criminal behind him, whose arms were kept together by tough metal and whose mouth was wrapped in leather straps. "He's agreed to behave this time... haven't you?"

The criminal gave him an unnerving smirk. "Yessir." He said, almost mocking the hero.

Aries ignored the sarcasm and mocker, turning back to the group of students in his care. "We'd best get started then."

Their first target was a man named James Yeoman, though more commonly referred to as Ratty. He was a small time petty criminal who operated to the northern end of the Tivoly District, and was wanted for multiple thefts and one attempted mugging. His Quirk gave him the ability to very slightly compress his body, which allowed him to squeeze into tighter spaces than most people could fit. He had a habit of getting drunk off of alcohol he had either stolen or bought via selling the stuff he had stolen, so he usually reeked of it. He was known to flee at the first sign of trouble, and could be differentiated by a whiskery moustache and oversized incisors – hence the nickname.

This information was all available on the warrant that Aries handed to the group. The students looked at it. This seemed like a relatively easy first target. The only challenging parts would be finding and catching him, and even then they had ways around that. Apparently Megalodon had a fantastic sense of smell, and there were eight students in total ready to chase after the criminal if he tried to run. Jared was certain they would have the man by lunchtime.

With this data on their target taken in, the group set of, with Aries and his pet shark-man leading the way.

"What are the chances we'll find this guy quickly?" Vikki pondered as they walked.

"Dunno, but Mr. Morse doesn't think it will take long." Barbara whispered back.

"If there's anyone fit to search for criminals in the undercity, it's Aries." Payton told them encouragingly. "It's part of what he does as a sleuth hero. He get a lay of the land, figures out ways to sneak close to the target without them seeing, then detains them before he's seen by anyone else. They're a bit like assassins actually."

"Except they don't kill their targets." Niall reminded him.

"Well, they're not supposed to." Payton a greed a little darkly, "But who's stopping them?"

Jared looked ahead at the hero leading their group. They had walked several blocks now, leaving the hostel behind them. At this point they were approaching a dark labyrinth of alleyways, with rooves and balconies and verandas that almost extended into the buildings opposite. Barely any light made its way through that concrete canopy. This what where they were going, into that deep, dark maw.

"Stay close everyone." Aries called back to them. "We don't need to get lost in here. If you notice anyone missing, call it out."

They could go missing in here? Now Jared was feeling a little more anxious. They passed buildings with black garbage bags piled up in their doorways. A few people looked out through their windows at them, then abruptly closed the curtains. Something horrible was dripping from one of the balconies, forming a puddle in the middle of the path which the students cautiously stepped around. This was one of the most eerie, uncomfortable, disturbing, upsetting place Jared had ever been. The sooner they were out of this alley the better.

Then, up ahead, they heard movement. Something scuttled through the trash. The class stopped, staring at it, paralysed with anxiety and tension.

A rat crawled out. It spotted the students, squeaked, and ran into a drain.

"Aw." Barbara squeaked. The others looked at her. "What? I like rats. They're not so bad." She said defensively.

"I wouldn't keep that one as a pet, though." Payton muttered, unable to ignore that it had crawled out of a bin bag.

"Everything okay?" Aries called back, having stopped a few metres ahead of the stalled students. They hurriedly caught up with him, trying not to get lost in this maze of concrete and black plastic and awful liquids and smells.

After several minutes of walking, the group was suddenly stopped. Aries raised an open hand, instructing the students and officers behind him to halt. Something was going on. The hero turned to the criminal beside him. Jared noticed his flat triangular snout was shifting and wriggling. There was an audible sniff. As the criminal turned to look at the hero, Jared could see a toothy smile on his face. Those serrated blades made him shudder. He could still remember looking up into the criminals face moments after falling from the top of the climbing wall. That image would never leave his mind.

"What do you smell?" Aries asked.

The criminal lowered himself down onto all fours, almost like a dog. It was strange to see a great white shark do this, as they were fish, not mammals. They didn't even have legs. Megalodon sniffed a few more times before he answered.

"I... smell someone... a person... no, two!... and somethin' strong, sour..." He paused, and his smile grew wider. "...booze... that's definitely booze!"

"That might be him." Aries declared. "We'd best investigate. Come on, we need to move quickly."

Immediately the class started jogging, keeping up with Aries but not running so fast that they tired out quickly. The shark-headed criminal was leading the group, following the smell of alcohol, running ahead of the class on two legs once more. Jared could see something glint in his eyes as they turned a corner. It could have easily been a reflection, but perhaps he was getting excited to be on the hunt.

They turned another few corners, following the shark's nose. But then he began to slow down. Jared saw his eyes widen momentarily, making the white sclera around his massive black pupils briefly visible. Aries slowed down beside him, looking concerned. Had he done this before? Then the criminal began to smile... and his eyes rolled over into white.

Immediately Aries had his hands on the criminal's muzzle, pulling it tight and backwards. This effectively restrained the criminal, hauling him backwards, almost into the students directly behind them. The officers were immediately on the scene, helping to restrain the shark.

"Blood..." Megalodon muttered, almost sounding inebriated. "I... smell blood..."

Any normal person would have said that with concern or fear... but he sounded _excited_! He spoke like a predator ready to make a kill.

"He's going to frenzy!" Aries shouted at the officers. "Pass me the Epipen, now!"

Jared was not sure what was going on, but he and the other students were very concerned. Something had happened to the criminal, and now their teacher was on full alert. He took a thin cylindrical object from the officer holding the criminal's left arm and stabbed it into the side of his neck. Only a second later Megalodon was calming down, his heavy breathing, gritted teeth and whitened eyes fading away, back into his normal expression.

Five seconds later and they were letting him go, as if the last few seconds hadn't happened.

"What was that?" Vikki was asking in panic. The others were no less startled.

Aries turned to them, apologetic and awkward. "Sorry that you all had to see that." He said as if trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. At that moment the shark man vomited loudly. "It's his shark biology, you see. He reacts strongly to the smell of blood. Sometimes it's enough to make him snap."

"Snap?" Payton muttered, disturbed.

Aries held his head, not wanting to divulge this information but having no other choice anymore.

"It makes him go into a frenzy. At that point, he becomes violent... and will attack anyone he sees."

The group were silent, staring at the shark in horrified shock. This man was aloud around them. Any one of them could have accidentally cut themselves at any point, and he could have snapped and attacked them.

"It's honestly nothing to worry about." Aries reassured them, though that sounded completely incorrect considering what they had just learned. He continued to press this belief on them. "One shot of tranquilizer helps calm him down. It's not enough to knock him out but it helps him snap out of his frenzy. He doesn't like going into it. I doubt any of you would either."

That was at least a little more relieving, though it didn't at all get rid of their nervousness around the criminal. They were relying on a single vial of tranquilizer to stop that man from snapping into a frenzy. None of them dared to imagine what might happen if they didn't have it on them the next time he smelled blood.

Aries put a hand on the man's grey shoulder. It was possibly the most unnaturally comforting thing they had ever seen him do for someone who had committed murder multiple times.

"The smell... it's this way." Megalodon spoke up after having a moment to break. "Just a few corners away from 'ere. I can still smell it." He seemed to be feeling nauseous, struggling to hold in his stomach's contents and stay standing on both feet.

"Come on. We may still be able to catch him."

Aries continued on with his students, and the shark continued to follow them. He was now at the back of the group with the officers, still under their supervision. Jared was feeling more and more that this task was not as safe as it had seemed. He trusted in his teacher, but that didn't mean he was infallible. One wrong move and all of them could be put in serious danger. But he decided not to doubt Aries. He could have, but how would that have helped the situation? They were a group, and they had to stay together in this place.

They turned several corners, following the directions the criminal had given them. Finally they turned a corner, and each of them came to a stop.

Two men stood at the centre of the alleyway, hidden in the dark. Their forms were visible as silhouettes against the faint glimmer of sunlight from above.

They knew now where the smell of blood had come from. One man was lying on his side, face buried in the ground. The other man held his arm upwards in a tight grip, with their left foot pressing into the individual's armpit. As they pulled harder and pressed heavier, the man on the ground began to scream, the sound of bone being moved from its joint bouncing off the walls.

Jared stood staring at the scene, never having expected to see something this brutal. The standing man had a fist coated in blood, possibly the victims or his own, possibly both. He raised it and punched the man on the ground, who yelped weakly. He could feel his mouth drying up. He wanted to shout, to scream, to stop him... but he couldn't. All the strength in his body was gone.

Aries took a step forwards. The group had not yet been noticed. The standing man was too focused upon his actions to hear their footsteps. The horned hero cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Hey, you there!" He bellowed.

The standing man froze, turning sharply towards the group. Jared could hear the sound of hissing as the man inhaled.

Then he bolted, turning and running for the alleyway behind him.

"Halt! Police!" The officer's sped past the group, chasing the man who was now trying to escape. Aries also began to run, though he was moving to the injured individual lying silently and motionlessly on the ground.

Jared and the other students followed him. The only person who didn't was Megalodon, who appeared to be avoiding the overwhelming smell of the man's blood. The two officers quickly returned to secure him. The man lying on the ground was covered in bruises, his face barely recognisable underneath the blackened swellings forming on his skin. But even with all of that bruising, Jared could tell who this man was. There was no way he could mistake that moustache, those teeth. This man was James Yeoman.

This was Ratty.

"Then who was that man?" Catherine aired nervously. It was the first time she had spoken all day, only to say what all of them were thinking.

"I want all of you to stay calm and keep together." Aries warned them. No one argued with him. They were all too uncertain of what was happening to disobey at that moment. "That man might have been one of Ratty's victims looking for revenge. That's the best outcome. It's also possible that he was a rival thief trying to get rid of competition. Worst case scenario... he was working for a criminal group, and we've just gotten in his way. Regardless of who he is, we need to track him down and question him." He gestured for the officers to bring Megalodon to him. "Can you catch his scent?"

"Maybe. 'e wasn't 'ere very long." The criminal croaked, trying not to inhale through his nose. "I need to get away from 'im, though."

Aries understood perfectly, and stepping away from his huddling students he lead Megalodon and his guarding officers to a clearer part of the alley.

"I'm getting' somethin' now." The shark man told him, sniffing lightly at the cleaner air. "Male... possibly late forties... strong body odour... somewhere close ahead, moving quickly yet not getting far... faint traces of bl-"

"That's enough." Aries told him quietly. The criminal stopped sniffing the air, looking tired out. His eyes were baggy and puffy, as if he'd had an allergic reaction.

Aries turn back to his students, folding his arms.

"Okay, this just became a bit more complicated. Whoever this man is, we need to find him. Whatever reason he had for attacking our buddy Ratty here, we need to know it. So, as heroes your next task will be to help me capture this man. I understand that you're in shock right now, but I need you to be strong, okay."

The class unanimously nodded. They were indeed shaken by what had happened, but they seemed to be recovering from it already, though some did so slower than others.

"Why didn't you just command him to stop, Niall?" Payton inquired as the class started to calm down.

"I was too shocked to think of that." Niall admitted with embarrassment. Until now he'd had no trouble making such commands of anyone or anything, no matter the situation. Perhaps seeing a real criminal beat someone half to death was enough to make him forget about his Quirk for a panicking moment.

"Well, isn't that convenient." Victoria muttered spitefully. She had taken the shock worse than most of the others.

"Okay, everyone focus now." Aries snapped. They returned their focus to him. "We're going to get start moving again now. I'll take the lead, and Megalodon will accompany me, with our police friends remaining here to secure Mr. Yeoman. Make sure to stay together and don't stray off. We can deal with this if we work together."

"Should we wait for backup?" Payton asked.

"We don't need it. This person isn't likely to have a seriously dangerous Quirk. If he did, he probably would have used it on Ratty already." Aries' spoke with optimism and courage, yet his expression was more direly serious than any of them had ever seen. "Remain on guard, though. We don't know what's capable off, and we need to find that out before we can make any proper attempt to capt- JARED, COME BACK!"

He didn't stop. He wasn't sure why he started running. He wasn't sure why he was ignoring his teacher's instructions. The sudden sensation had come over him. The need to give chase. He knew that his target was close, he knew that he wasn't getting far. He wanted to catch him. He wanted to stop him.

Was this the hero he wanted to be? A hero who ignored orders ran recklessly into unknown danger?

Perhaps it was.

Either way, he wasn't stopping now. Not even as the cries of his teacher and friends got further away. He could hear them run after him, but eventually that faded away too. Even the light from the sun above the canopy was gone. He was running into the dark all by himself... and he had no idea why.

He stopped running when he turned a corner into a dead end. Instinct had told him to follow the obvious pathway through the alleys. The more turns he took the closer he was getting to his target. Finally he could hear running ahead of him. Splashes as feet landed in puddles. He kept up the chase, following the target, or what he assumed was the target. Then he turned into the dead end, and skidded to a halt.

Ahead of him was a chain link fence almost three metres tall. Barbed wire was wrapped around the top, hanging loosely downwards like a fringe of hair. A man was attempting to climb it. He couldn't get a footing on the metal, and kept slipping down to the bottom.

He had to be the man he was chasing.

Jared approached.

The man turned around, staring at him. His features were hidden under a thick coat, shadow hiding his face. Blood splats were marked to the lower area of the midnight blue fabric. This was almost certainly him. He was the man who had attacked Ratty.

"You've got nowhere to go." Jared warned him, reaching his hand into his pocket, where he was hiding his stun gun.

The man who had been trying to run from him hissed in irritation.

"Dumb kid! You're interrupting the course of justice!"

The man didn't sound English. He didn't have an English accent. Neither was his accent Scottish, Welsh, Irish, or any other kind that could be associated with the British Isles. Jared couldn't quite place it. It reminded him of Dubstep for some reason. Eastern European maybe?

"The course of Justice?" Jared realised what the man had said. Why would a criminal bring up the course of justice? What was there justifiable about attacking a man?

In his confusion, he hadn't been paying attention. The criminal moved suddenly, snapping Jared out of his thoughts. He was immediately alert and brandished his stun gun.

"I'm warning you!" Jared snapped, trying to be authoritative.

The man looked at the weapon. In the dim light he could see a pair of dark blue eyes looking through the hood of the coat. Another hissing intake of breath.

Then the man raised his right arm.

* * *

 **I'm not going to leave a long message here this time. I'm just going to pose my question leave it be.**

 **Question:** _ **Who is your least favorite character, and why? (This can be a character you personally like the least or a character you think is the worst written. I don't mind which.)**_

 **In case you can't tell, the rest of this arc will be about the final task set over BHA's last two days in Scarow. A lot's going to go down, and it's going to get rather heavy... so prepare your buts.**


	40. Chapter 35 - Old Wounds

**WARNING: This chapter touches upon some rather heavy subjects and may not be suitable for certain individuals. If you are uncomfortable with subjects such as politics, war and terrorism you may want to skip this chapter.**

* * *

 **Ty Urban**

 _[November 27th]_

* * *

The moment Jared had sprinted off by himself into the dark of the alleyway the group had fallen into chaos. Though there wasn't much hysteria, there was certainly an air of uncertainty and concern. To Aries' credit he managed to get everything under control very quickly. He quietened the students down with only one word.

"Shush!"

That single sound ended the shouting. The students who had been calling for Jared to come back were now looking at their teacher, expecting him to resolve the situation. There was a palpable sense of approaching danger that all of them could feel. They had an unconscious criminal lying at their feet and another still unknown individual who had beat him up then bolted into the dark. They were all wondering how far he would go. Would he run for the hills, or move to a place where he could hide and surprise them when they didn't expect it?

"Everyone, stay calm." Aries reassured them. "Listen to me, all of you. We need to keep our cool. We can't lose focus right now."

"That idiot just sprinted off!" Victoria blurted, talking about Jared. "What do we do about that? He'll get himself killed."

"We've got to go after him!" Payton stated, making an effort to push himself past his fellow students and follow after his friend.

"No, that's a very bad idea." Aries told them seriously. "All of you will stay here. I will go after Jared."

"What about this guy?" Barbara asked, tapping the unconscious Ratty with the tip of her shoe.

"We'll take him to the police station once I've brought Jared back." Aries told her.

"You're going to leave us with him?" Victoria exclaimed.

"No, Officer Davies will stay with you." He nodded towards one of the two officers. That officer nodded back obediently, readying the rifle that was strapped across his shoulder, though not cocking it or aiming it for now. It was there as a precaution. "Officer Moffat, you come with me, and you too, Thalassa."

The shark-headed criminal grunted but approached casually and unthreateningly. The officer named Moffat pushed himself slightly with the barrel of his gun jabbing into his lower spine. The criminal growled at that.

"And you two..." Aries added, turning back to his students, "...Ty... Catherine..."

The two teenagers looked at him in shock, and the rest of their group looked at them with further shock.

"Why are they going with you?" Niall asked, almost commanded him to answer.

"I can't explain that." Aries told him dismissively. "But for the moment they need to stick with me. The rest of you will remain here for now."

"What makes them special?" Victoria demanded.

Aries didn't answer this time. He left his students wondering what on Earth was going on right now. One of their classmates had run off, and now another two were being taken away for reasons they weren't being told.

"None of you move from this spot, okay." The teacher further instructed, looking dead serious. None of them made any attempt to argue with him this time. An expression such as his was enough to nullify the fight in them.

Ty obediently followed his teacher and foster father, as did Catherine. Neither of them argued or speculated as to why they had been dragged along with him. They already knew why. He had to keep his eyes on them at all times, just as he did with the criminal that followed them. Together the three dangerous individuals, their guardian and his police body guard walked into the darkness and the depths of Scarow's Alleyways.

"Kameron..." Catherine whispered, her voice light and high pitched like helium. "...I don't like this place."

"Be strong." The horned hero reassured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "If anything should happen, I'll be here to deal with it.

Ty found himself staring at that hand. His sharp, black bagged eyes focused upon the fingers, the wrinkled detail on the knuckles and digits. Aries had never put his hand upon him like that. No one ever had. Even his mother, when she had threatened to slap him, to beat him to death, had never actually followed through with her words. She was too scared of his Quirk. He had never shared a touch with anyone before, not so much as a brief handshake. What did contact with another human feel like. Was it warm, soft, comforting? Would it make him feel safe? He would never know for himself, because no one would ever be able to hug him, not if they wanted to avoid thissolving into dust. As much as Aries talked about helping Ty, and claimed to be doing everything he could to improve his life, even he was not prepared to tough him. Not even with his plastic clothing covering his skin would his foster father lay a finger on him. He too was scared of his Quirk. Ty could have been angry about that. He could have been jealous of Catherine for being able to share a simple touch with him. But he wasn't angry, nor was he sad, or jealous, or anything at all anymore. All he felt was a consuming hollowness. His heart felt like a bottomless chasm, a conquering black hole. Nothing anyone could do would fill it anymore. A bottomless grave can never be filled, no matter how much dirt is shovelled on top.

"Smell of blood's getting' faint..." Megalodon murmured, still under the influence of the tranquilizer. He did not appear to be struggling with bloodlust at that moment, but Officer Moffat kept their attention focused on him just in case.

"Can you still follow it?" Aries asked.

The criminal sniffed a few times, then shook his head apologetically. "Sorry, boss."

"Okay." Aries murmured, having to rely on other options available to them. "Ty, Catherine, keep your senses sharp. Look for anything out of place and listen for any suspicious sounds. Hopefully Jared won't have run off too far, and if he's smart he'll try and head back to us."

They stalked through the quiet and shadowed alleyway, through lines of ancient black garbage bags and puddles of what they hoped was water. Awful smells assaulted them, affecting Megalodon the worst due to his sensitive nose. For a while the path seemed obvious. Though they came up to several split paths, usually there was only one that wasn't blocked up by trash or a metal mesh fence. More often than not the alleys would turn in only one direction.

Then they came to a T junction. Two directions were available to them; left or right.

"Which way now, sir?" Officer Moffat asked.

Aries hummed in thought. He stood at the middle of the junction for several seconds, looking back and forth, observing every detail.

"This way." He decided, pointing the left path. "That other way is clearly a dead end. There's no breeze coming from that direction, where as this one there is. I doubt our mysterious attacker would have gone that way, and if Jared was still following him then neither would he."

"Perhaps we should split up, sir?" The officer suggested.

"We don't have the numbers for that." The hero reasoned. "I need to keep an eye on these two and our criminal companion, and I can hardly send you off on your own. We'd best stick together for now. If this path turned out to be a dead end we'll turn back and go the other way instead."

This had sounded like a reasonable, logical suggestion, and Ty had most certainly believed him. He wasn't even close to being as experienced on these matters as Aries was. Yet as they turned to walk down their decided alley, from the opposite one Ty heard a very faint metallic scraping. It appeared that he was the only one who had heard it, as he was the only one of the group to react to it. He stopped and turned back. He looked down that alley, saw the turning it took some feet beyond the junction. It was very dark down there, barely anything visible within the shadows. He should have trusted Aries completely and gone with them. He might have... if only he was able to feel close to him. That was the thing; he didn't trust anyone. He didn't even trust himself.

He started walking... in the opposite direction.

Only Catherine noticed that he was not following them. When she turned around and noticed that he was instead walking towards the other alley they had chosen to ignore, she hissed for him to come back.

"Ty... where are you going...?"

Ty glanced back at her. He raised a finger and pointed it at the alley ahead of him. "This way." He stated with eerie quietness.

He continued walking, though his adopted sister hissed at him again. For whatever reason she didn't shout at him, or tell Aries that he wasn't following. For whatever reason she instead chose to follow him. She almost grabbed his arm to pull him back, but stopped herself before she touched his skin with bare hands. He retracted his arms into his dress to avoid that happening twice.

"Why are we going this way?" Catherine asked him, her skinny arms wrapped tight around her coats.

"I heard something."

"It was probably a... a rat!" She said with a shiver. Evidently she wasn't a fan of rodents, not like Barbara apparently was.

"It sounded like metal." Ty said, undoubting his senses.

"That could be anything."

Ty didn't bother arguing with her. He didn't care for arguments. He had heard enough of people shouting and screaming for one life. He was much happier with the quiet that they alley provided, though he would have preferred to be alone. Why she had followed him he didn't know. Maybe she was lonely, or maybe she didn't want him to be alone. Either way, both of them were now walking away from their foster father, teacher and hero, without him knowing that they were gone.

"It's dark down here." Catherine complained quietly, keeping close to her adopted sibling.

"Yeah..." Ty murmured in agreement. He didn't usually talk this much. Something about being alone with Catherine brought that talkative side out of him. Even then he only said a few words and a few sentences, but that was more than the rare single word he said to anyone else. What was a real human relationship even supposed to feel like. All he knew about that subject was the pain that came with suffering and loss, and how others reacted to the revelation of what his Quirk does.

He would always see the expression on his mother's face, the horror in her eyes... as his father disintegrated into atoms in front of her!

But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that he couldn't even remember what his father looked like. His face was always a shadow in his memories, something too painful to acknowledge. Had he been just as horrified? Had he been screaming in pain? Ty couldn't even try and think about it. When he did, his brain shut down, locked him out of that memory vault.

He stopped mid step.

"Is everything okay?" Catherine asked, wanting to tap Ty on the shoulder but not daring to risk it.

Ty shuddered and shook, sniffing deeply, hiding his tears and pushing away his memories.

"Fine..." He muttered.

Catherine wasn't sure what that had been about. She knew a little about Ty's past, but not all of it. Not the really painful stuff that had been buried deep in his memory.

They stood in silence for a few short lived seconds. In that time the distant metal scraping occurred again. This time Catherine heard it too. It was still faint but now a little louder than before. That meant that they were closer to it.

"That could still just be rats." Catherine reasoned, not wanting to go any further from their guardian than they already had. "Let's go back, Ty. We'll get in trouble."

Ty didn't care about trouble. What could Aries do to him that had not already been done? How worse could he make his life? He continued on, ignoring the suggestions and insisting of his sister. Though she did so with some reluctance, Catherine followed him. She continued to tell him that she did it because she couldn't leave him alone in this place, but internally Ty suspected that it was because she didn't want to be alone. He was happy being alone. Anyone wanting to hurt him would quickly realise their mistake. What could other people do to him that his Quirk had not already done? What could they take that it had not already taken?

After turning the corner they were faced with another alley, and further down that was another turning. Finally they came to a final turning. Beyond that seemed to be a dead end, with masses of garbage bags and bins piled on top of each other and leaning against a tall metal fence. Aries had been right about that then. This was indeed the wrong way.

But, to the startled realisation of the two teenagers, they found that they were not the only people there.

Before they turned that corner they could hear talking, not hushed whispering but an open and loud conversation between two people. This was not something Ty had expected tie find. Only secretive and illegal discussions took place in alleys, not casual discussions. Anyone attempting a social conversation in a place like this was asking for trouble.

"That voice sounds familiar." Catherine realised. "Like..."

They turned the corner, and sharply darted back behind it. Two male figures were sat at the centre of the cut off alley, perched upon an overturned dustbin and a spongy bin bag. They were sat adjacent to each other, neither facing the corner that Ty and Catherine were peering around. Just as it had sounded, the two were having an actual conversation, not a heated one or a surreptitious one. Just a conversation, as if they were getting to know each other.

"Is that..." Catherine gasped as she realised that her suspicion was correct. "...Jared?"

Indeed it was. Jared Wreath was sat with a stranger, talking to him with astounding eagerness.

* * *

 **Jared Wreath**

 _[November 27th]_

* * *

The man raised his right arm.

In an instant Jared acted, squeezing his finger down upon the trigger of his stun gun. He wasn't about to let him use his Quirk – whatever its effect may be – to either escape or take him out before he could react. The barbed projectile buried into the man's coat, conducting the weapon's stored voltage into him.

A second later he was kneeling on the ground, yelling in pain, leaning on his once outstretched hand for support. The weapon in Jared's hand clicked off after a moment, and the cables which were attached to the prongs began to real back in.

His opponent was down, debilitated. Jared had the perfect chance to bring him down. Since beginning his first year at BHA there had been two important techniques that were constantly drilled into their heads which applied when facing an unknown criminal or miscreant. The first was to pay attention to their behaviour and their attitude. People tended to give away small hints as to what they were planning when they spoke or breathed or looked around. You had to watch for concerning signs that might suggest an attack. Beyond that, it was wise to be cautious of an assailant, especially if you didn't know what weapons they might have hidden on them, or what Quirk they had. In the case of the prior they were advised to debilitate the assailant before they could draw the weapon. In the case of the latter they were encouraged to try and provoke the assailant to revealing their Quirk, either by accident or through coercion. Once you knew what it was and what it did you could act accordingly to avoid it.

The second technique involved actually bringing an opponent down with minimal risk or injury to yourself or others. With the unknown figure now on his knees and recovering from electrocution, Jared reasoned it was safe enough for him to try and bring him down. He hadn't practiced it in a while, though. Hopefully he could remember the order of actions. First however he made sure to quickly put his stun gun away. He would be needing both hands.

The suspicious man was trying to rise to his feet, recovering slowly from being zapped. Jaren approached in a quick but cautious run, arms at his side with hands open to grab. In defence the man reached out with his hand, most likely aiming to push him away, or possibly to activate his Quirk. Jared wouldn't allow that. He grabbed the arm and turned the man's attack against him. Gripping the man's index finger with his right hand, Jared twisting it painfully backwards and pulled his entire right arm around and behind him. The man screamed in pain and tried to break free, but Jared wasn't going to let him go. He forced the man's arm into an awkward and painful position behind his back.. The man almost fell over, unable to free his finger or resist the sharp pain travelling up his arm. Now that he was behind the target, Jared dragged his target's arm towards the ground, and with it came the target himself, who almost collapsed onto his back. It was once he was on his knees that Jared finally let go, only to slide his right arm underneath the mans neck and plant his hand upon his left shoulder. His left arm then reached behind his head and took a hold of his left shoulder.

And that was all he needed to do. Once he was gripped in this position the man couldn't break free. He tried to fight against his aggressor, but every time he did Jared would position his right arm slightly further into his neck. The more he tried, the more breath he lost and failed to regain. He began swinging his arms backwards, trying to strike Jared in the legs, but he avoided the strikes and kept his grip tight.

"Okay." Jared muttered, surprised and impressed that he'd been able to pull this technique off on an actual criminal, not just on a practice dummy or another student. None of his fellow students had given him such an easy time, and even the dummies had a tendency to swing back. Either all that practice had paid off or this man was much weaker than they were. He'd been certain the man would use his Quirk – whatever that was – to break free by now. He was not planning to look a gift horse in the mouth, however. He was very grateful that his opponent hadn't done that. "Start talking. Back in the alley, why were you attacking that man?"

"Ach!..." the criminal gasped, now grabbing at Jared's hand, trying to loosen his tight grip. "Not attack... Punish...!"

"You beat him half to death!" Jared snapped at him, his mouth a few inches from the criminal's left ear. "What had he done to deserve that?"

"He... was... criminal...!" The man in his grip wheezed. "Thief... Lowlife... Scum...!"

"And you're any different?" Jared challenged.

"This is... justice!"

There it was again, those mutterings about justice.

"What is just about beating someone to death?"

"Dumb... Kid...!"

The man grunted sharply... and suddenly he was free. He threw Jared's arm away from his throat with a surprising amount of strength, and though Jared tried to lock his left arm back around instead the figure broke awake before he could get a strong grip.

Having been shoved back by the escape, Jared's defence was broken. He stumbled backwards, unable to recover before the man could turn on him. He was certain that the figure would take advantage of this. He'd made the foolish mistake of losing concentration for a mere moment. He could only hope that whatever he did next wouldn't hurt him too badly... or kill him.

The man extended his arm again. Something about the way he did it sent shivers down Jared's spine. There was something more to it. Was this what he needed to do to activate his Quirk? What would happen when it did activate. Would Jared have enough time to avoid it, or to escape for that matter? Would the others be able to find him if he didn't avoid it and it left him unable to fight back. So many concerns and possibilities sparked through his mind in that half second of suspense and inactivity. He looked at the arm, reaching the end of his stumble but still not yet able to react properly. Time moved like old window glass, slowly sliding down over the span of centuries.

The man's hand clenched.

Nothing happened.

Then he turned and ran.

Jared would have been shocked if his brain hadn't instantly forced him to react. He was no less shocked after he did so. He wasn't really thinking about what he was doing, just as he hadn't thought about what he was doing when he chased this figure into this dead end alley. All he had thought at that moment was that this man couldn't get away. There were a few questions he had to answer. Aries was relying on him. If he let him escape his risky actions would have been for nothing.

He snapped out of his stunned daze and ran for the running man, leaping and grabbing him around the ankles. The escaping figure collapsed, landing face first on the ground with an _'Umph'_ and a foreign exclamation.

The hood that hid his face came flying off. Now Jared had a chance to properly look at his opponent's face. He was a much older man than he had expected. A mass of receding grey-black hair sat atop his head, cut short like hedgehog spines. His cheeks were gaunt and overall his face had a skinny, almost malnourished complexion. As he turned his head back to glare at Jared, his dark blue eyes became visible.

Instantly he began trying to kick Jared off of him, successfully hitting him in the chin and causing a small graze to form. He had a lot of strength to him, more than someone of his age or body shape ought to have. But while this initially broke Jared's grip around his ankles, the trainee hero was upon him moments later, scrambling on all fours and pulling the man back down before he could get onto his feet again. They struggled on the damp floor.

"Let go!" The man insisted, kicking at his attacker. This time Jared did not let go of him, even when a hard leather boot pressed into the joint of his left shoulder.

He put the weight of his lower body onto the man's legs, and while he still had him pinned he slipped his hands into his pockets and pulled out the two gadgets available to him. He aimed his stun gun in his left hand while pressing the man's chest down with his power glove upon his right hand. Since his target was unable to move he would have an easy shot on him. However, the figure's struggles made this much tougher than he had expected, and with a swinging arm he almost knocked the weapon out of Jared's hand. After barely managing to catch it, he fired it by accident, shooting the prongs into the back of his right hand.

The metal tips bounced off the pneumatic ram, but not before they could pass the stored voltage into it. Jared felt the sharp electric surge through his body. All of his muscles seized up in an instant, clenching his hands and his teeth. The figure seemed to also receive the shock, as he too was convulsing with tightened muscles. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to leave the both of them weak and limp. Jared fell off the man and onto his back, gasping and shuddering as the last jolts of electricity passed through him and into the ground.

When he sat back up a few seconds later, he realised that the figure was still there. Being electrocuted twice in only a minute had taken its toll. The shock had left him too tired to move. He breathed loudly and heavily, his chest heaving under his coat.

Jared leaned forwards and crawled over to him, letting the now winding up stun gun lie on the floor behind him. He sat on the man's fragile legs and held him down with his right hand, his power glove still working and still strong. His fingers gripped the man's coat, and with his left hand he helped the man sit up.

The figure stared forwards at him, too exhausted to fight or even to speak. Jared stared back at him, judging him. This fight had been confusing. Why had the man chosen to run, when only moments before he had beaten someone up? Why wasn't he using his Quirk?

"Alright. Now, you're going to start talking." Jared dictated.

The man grunted, spitting to the side. He looked Jared in the eye as some sort of attempt to unnerve him, but it didn't work. The grip on his coat tightened and yanked him forwards sharply.

"Answer my questions." Jared snapped at him. "Why were you attacking that man? Why did you try to run from me?... and don't just answer with justice!" He added the last part because he knew the man would try and avoid his questions that way.

The man grunted. His weak arms tried to grab Jared's, but his fingers barely had the strength to curl up and his hands ultimately slipped from his sleeves. "D... Dumb... Kid...!" He muttered with exhaustion.

Jared shook him again, this time a little rougher. "Don't mock me!" He growled, trying as hard as he could to come across as intimidating. Evidently it wasn't working, as the man was simply smiling at him. It was an odd sort of smile, almost sympathetic.

"You... are child... As if you could understand... what justice needs to be carried out."

"I'm a hero!" Jared shouted at him, his grip growing tighter again. He didn't mention anything about the fact that he was not yet a proper hero. He doubted that it would help his situation if he were to tell the man that he was only a trainee.

The man laughed at him regardless. "You are so young..." He chuckled. "...Children... cannot be heroes... only adults..." He coughed, spewing phlegm over Jared's hoodie. Jared ignored it. "Dumb Kid!"

"Stop calling me that!" Jared was starting to lose his temper. The man was mocking him. "I'm not a kid!"

"Yes you are." The man insisted, a malicious grin on his face, proud that he was making Jared mad. "You are scared little boy who is wearing his father's shoes!"

Jared almost punched him. He had very nearly considered doing so. But he remembered who he was, what he was supposed to be, and he calmed down. His grip on the man loosened a little, but not enough for him to try and break free.

"You're avoiding my questions." Jared stated coolly. "Why did you attack that man?"

"He was criminal." The man responded. "Thief. He got what he deserved."

"I fail to see how being beaten to near death is deserved." Jared answer back.

"It is justice."

"You keep saying that." Jared narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What do you mean by that?"

"That man, the thief, he had not faced true justice yet." The man continued to explain. "Now he has, and he will steal no more."

Jared felt that he was beginning to understand. This man thought he was enacting justice, as if he were a police officer or a court judge... or a hero. But heroes didn't do this sort of thing, neither did police officers or judges. They were cautious and observant and calculating. They took in all the information on a situation that they could gather and came to a conclusion on what to do based on that. This man didn't do any of that. He seemed to act purely on emotion. He hadn't even explained why being a thief meant a person deserved such a beating, he'd only stated that they did.

"So you're some sort of, what... vigilante?" Jared asked.

"I'm the only real hero in this city!" The man snapped at him. "In this country! All your heroes are false idols!"

That was a very bold statement to make, especially considering that Jared knew several of the heroes he was now calling fakes. It was a little tough to tell through his accent, but the way he had used the word ' _Your'_ stuck with him.

"You say that as if you are not from here?"

The man spat in disgust. "As if I would come from this stinking country!" He growled.

That suddenly explained quite a bit about him, though it also opened up many more questions. The biggest of those questions was...

"Where are you from, then?" Jared inquired. He paused, narrowing his brow. "You sound Russian."

"Russian?!" The man fumed with rage at the suggestion. It startled Jared for a moment to see him so angered by a comment he had intended to be harmless. "Not Russian! How could you mix me up with them? I'm Polish!"

 _"Polish!"_

Jared would have slapped himself on the forehead if he'd had a third arm. How stupid was he, thinking this mad was Russian? He had been right about the man sounding Eastern European at least. Thinking about it, perhaps it hadn't been the wisest idea to assume the man's culture of origin like that, especially after learning how easily it angered him.

"Then what are you doing in England?" Jared asked, his angry and stern demeanour starting to wear away. "Scarow isn't the sort of city that most foreigners tend to visit."

"I smuggled myself on board cargo ship." The man explained, calming down a little now that the subject was changed.

"Then you're an illegal immigrant?" Jared said.

"I don't want to be here!" The man stated defensively. "I've been trapped here for five years!"

"Trapped?" Jared repeated. "Why did you come here in the first place?"

"To seek justice!" The man explained, "Against cold hearted, ruthless man!" He struggled to move his legs out from under Jared's weight. "I'll happily tell you all about it if you let me go."

Jared scoffed. "As if. The moment I let you go you'll attack me and use your Quirk on me?"

"Quirk?" The man seemed surprised. "You think I would not have already used it if I could?"

Jared blinked. "Sorry?"

 _"Naprawdę jesteś głupim chłopcem!"_ The man exclaimed in what Jared could only assume was Polish. "I've had plenty of chances to use a Quirk on you. Did you not figure that out?

Jared had certainly noticed it, and he'd definitely found it strange, but his anxiety over the fight and his expectation that a Quirk would be activated at any second had blinded his attention towards it.

"What's your excuse? Didn't feel like using yours?" The man continued.

"I don't actually have a... a Quirk..." Jared's voice faltered. It struck him like a baseball bat to the brain. How could he have not figured that out before? It made complete sense. "You're... Quirkless?"

The man chuckled, with more scorn than humour. "It seems you and I arre not so different."

Jared let go off the man. He hadn't intended to. The shock of that revelation had made his fingers go numb. He felt like an idiot for not noticing it. Any normal criminal would have absolutely used their Quirk by now. For him no continuously not use it... that clearly meant that he didn't have one to begin with. He was Quirkless, just like Jared was.

"I did not think they made Quirkless children into heroes here." The polish man stated, sliding his feet out from underneath Jared. "What is your name, Quirkless hero?"

"Jared." Jared told him, blinking a few times to regain focus. "Jared Wreath."

The Quirkless Polish illegal immigrant stood up, and to Jared's surprise he kept his word and did not attempt to fight back. Neither did he try to run. He merely gave the trainee hero a small polite nod and a bow. "Karol Wyrzykowski." He stated, his accent becoming much thicker with every Polish word he said. Jared immediately knew he would have trouble pronouncing that name.

"So what now? You make another attempt to run away? I'll just chase after you again."

The man named Karol smiled weakly. "I don't doubt you will. I have no intention to run. I think we can come to understand each other, Jared. We are not so different." He extended a hand, not to shake but to gesture rather awkwardly to the boy. "I feel that we will come to understand each other if we talk."

Jared had not yet fully dropped his guard. The man had beaten someone nearly to death after all. Someone capable of that was probably just as capable of deceiving and playing the fool. But he seemed honest in his keenness to talk. It didn't feel right to deny that request so bluntly. Perhaps talking to him would illuminate the situation, or possibly help Jared understand this individual and others like him. That could then help him become better at capturing them in the future, without the struggle or the chase he had been through to get here.

"Okay." He said vigilantly. "You want to do this here?"

"Where else but the open?" Karol Wyzykowski picked up an overturned metal dustbin and stood it upside down on the soaked cobbles. He then perched on its skyward facing base, treating it like an office chair. "Pull up seat, Jared Wreath."

There were several seats to choose from, so long as you weren't picky about where you placed your rear. Jared turned a green plastic bin onto its side and perched upon it, using it as if it were a bench. He sat opposite the foreign man, leaning forward with his right hand resting on the hilt of his stun gun. He didn't expect the man to go against his word... but just in case...

"What do you want to talk about?" Jared asked him, trying to get comfortable of his makeshift seat. His still gloved hand lay on his lap, ready for use in case the man tried anything.

Karol rubbed the back of his head with a skeletal hand, long fingers scratching between the strands of hair. "We have both led unusual lives, I'm betting." The Polish man deduced. "I want to know what it is that has allowed Quirkless boys to become heroes."

A short pause for internal translation.

"Not much to say." Jared responded, perhaps more honestly than he should have. As much as this man was now acting very friendly towards him, he was still a criminal, and one whose abilities were still unknown. Being Quirkless did not mean that he was not dangerous. "My dad is a hero, I grew up wanting to be like him. Then I learned I was Quirkless, and he stopped encouraging me to become one. My mum died, so I was left without anyone who would support me. I didn't give up though. I kept trying, but no matter what it just didn't work out. No one would take me seriously."

"I know that feeling." Karol murmured. It felt a little strange for Jared and this unknown criminal to suddenly have something to relate to. "I had similar dream at first. Once I realised it was impossible to achieve, I gave it up."

"I couldn't do that." Jared continued, starting to feel a little sad thinking about his past. Though it was half a year behind him, it still felt very fresh at times. He cheered up again with the next part. "But then I met my teacher. He knew that I was Quirkless, yet he still gave me a chance. He got me into the school he worked at. I've been training there since..."

He paused. He wasn't sure if he should tell this man yet that he was only a trainee hero, with no proper acknowledgment or legal certification from the Hero Movement or their Hero Boards. The conjecture he had left that sentence with seemed to satisfy Karol however.

"He sounds like good hero." The polish man stated, smiling. It was strange to see that sort of smile; passionate and warm. It made Jared uncomfortable to remember that only minutes ago they had been fighting.

Jared glanced back towards the vigilante. "What about you? What brought you to England?"

To his surprise, Karol began to laugh. It wasn't a happy laugh though, or a mocking laugh. It had an eerie sadness to it, as if he was covering up something very painful.

"You sure you want to know?"

That was an odd question. It made Jared pause and ask himself if he really did want to know about this man. Would knowing more about him hurt? How bad could his past be?

"I am." He stated with as much certainty as he could apply.

Karol's laugh faded rapidly. He was left only with a sad, lungful look at the ground.

"What do they teach your children of... the War of the Quirks?"

That was a question Jared had not been expecting. That war had been long before he was born, almost seventy five years ago now. What reason did this immigrated Polish man have to bring it up?

"A bit." Jared admitted. Though it was now the relatively distant past, they still taught it in school. Most of the early days from the discovery of Quirks were forgotten, and the stuff before that was also largely not talked about.

"Do they teach you about the horrors of that war?" Karol persisted.

Jared didn't want to think about that much. It was called the War of the Quirks for a very good reason. It was the first war in history – and hopefully the last – where Quirks were openly utilized as weapons. It was also the first war in which heroes from all across the world were forced to fight. Though it was usually taught in primary school, the teachers had indeed gone into the many atrocities committed during that war. Some of it had been left out, or worded to make it less horrific, but it still had its intended effect. It was important to understand, so that it never happened again. "They do."

"Then you know the state it left the world in?" Asked the Polish vigilante. "About the PRR?"

Again, another question he had not been expecting. What relevance did the PRR have to this discussion, no doubt he would soon find out.

The Post-Russian Republic, or PRR as it was often called, was what remained of the countries neighbouring Eastern Russia after the War of the Quirks. Because of the devastation those countries had gone through, the war was also often referred to as the Russian-European War. Some even called it the Third Great War, though Jared didn't know much about the first two. But this man had just clarified that he was Polish, and Jared already knew that Poland was not one of those countries that made up the PRR. It had managed to avoid being attacked directly, though its eastern neighbours weren't so lucky. What was this man trying to tell him?

"Why are you asking me about this?" Jared decided to asked, hoping to clarify the subject before it went further down this rabbit hole.

Karol bit his lip, looking away uncomfortable. Something was evidently bothering him, something about this subject.

"I was born Polish." He explained quietly. "I grew up in Warsaw. My mother and father were Polish. But when I was six my family moved to PRR."

Jared nodded. Now the bringing up of this subject was starting to make sense.

"Why?" Jared asked.

"My father was architect, my mother was teacher and... umm..." the man paused, apparently struggling to remember the word. "... _Pediatra_... uh... paediatrician. Father was asked to help restore buildings in Minsk. Mother went with him to work with orphans and sick kids. Of course I had to go too, I had no one else to care for me. We lived in encampment near Nyamiha River. After war, Belarus was left devastated, and their capital city was reduced to rubble. They had a restoration operation in effect, and father was hired to assist with its planning."

That at least explained a little about why the PRR was relevant to his story. Belarus was one of the countries that belong to it. The others, if Jared remembered correctly, where the remnants of Lithuania and Ukraine.

"I saw a lot of what was left behind by the war..." Karol continued, his voice fading away quietly. "Land can be restored, buildings can be rebuild... but identity, that is much harder to recover. Latvia... Estonia... completely gone. Now they are just another part of Russia. Their land, their cities, their identity, that was all taken from them. If dey had been given the chance, Russia would have taken Belarus, Ukraine and Lithuania too." He raised his head, and Jared saw the vicious seriousness glistening in the black of his pupils. "Tell me, Jared Wreath... is it right that a people should be assimilated into another, till nothing remains of who they once were?"

Jared had no answer for that. If he had said yes he would have been a hypocrite, since the people of Britain were a massive amalgamation of other people they had fought, ruled over or destroyed before. Britons, Saxons, Anglo-Saxons, Vikings, Normans, Celts, Picts, Romans, Welsh, Scottish, Irish, Indians; all made up the people of Great Britain. Their history was of conquest, destruction and absorption. But in that respect, he couldn't answer with no either. If he did, he would be denying that this had happened. It was a long, long time ago now, but those wars, those people, they still existed within this collective. Everything they were had made a home in British Culture, even their language. English as a language could not exist without those people. The culture he had been born into could not exist without them. Was it right of him to wish that they had never become a part of English culture? His own name wasn't even English in origin. According to a few name origin websites it was Hebrew. If you removed all those external additions from other people and countries, what was left that you could truly call English?

He realised that he had been sat thinking for a while. He looked up, and answered Karol's question with an indecisive shrug.

"I wonder that myself." Karol agreed with him. "Children should be innocent to the woes of the world. I was for while, but inevitably I was introduced to the horrors that country had been through."

Jared was impressed by some of the words Karol was using. He spoke English very well. Had he been learning it long?

"What happened?" he asked.

Karol shook his head again. "The PRR is not peaceful place." He clarified. "Though their government is focused on keeping peace with Russia and rebuilding, there are groups who are against them. Some of them think that they should fight back against Russia – as if they didn't do that in the past. Others think they should surrender to Russia, and allow themselves to be conquered. Some of those people have formed militant groups."

Jared's eyes widened in shock. The PRR was home to terrorist organisations? That he had not known about. Perhaps it was a recent development, but the matter had never been mentioned in the news before. Even if he hadn't heard or seen it in the news, he would have learned about it through word of mouth. It struck home just how fortunate he was to live in England. While this country had plenty of its own problems, they didn't have to worry about the constant threat of war or terrorism.

"When I was eleven, one of these groups set off bomb in our encampment." Karol stated. He didn't need to exaggerate or shout it. Those words were enough to portray the horror and pain of the event. "My mother and Father were both killed. I was lucky, I only had few broken ribs and some scars on my left side. When I woke up, I was alone in the world."

"I'm sorry." Jared muttered. What more could he say? He couldn't imagine the pain or grief that Karol had been in. Losing one parent was tough, Jared could attest to that, but to lose both parents in such a horrendous way.

Karol didn't seem to hear him. He snorted gently through his nose, as some sort of response, but said nothing else back.

"I spent my teenage years in orphanage." The vigilante continued. "Not much to say about that time, only that I was very lonely. At sixteen I left to live on my own. I wasn't able to buy house, not that there was much to pick from in Minsk. I ended up moving from camp to camp, sleeping where I could and working when I could. Eventually I decided to move back to Warsaw, where I became trash collector."

Jared tried not to laugh. The polish man narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yes, it's very funny." He said without humour. "Sure, my parents had good jobs, but I didn't have their training. I tried becoming a pedo... paedio... paediatric... paediatrician-" Jared was relieved that he had corrected himself. "-like my mother, but I didn't have the training, and they wouldn't supply it. Collecting trash was all I could do."

Now Jared felt a bit guilty for laughing at him. "Sorry." He muttered, embarrassed.

Karol didn't appear to take it to heart. He dropped it a second later. "I also tried to study politics, but no university would take me. I didn't have the grades they wanted. So instead I started spending time at nearby library, reading whatever books I liked. It's not the same as official education, but I learned quite bit. I liked it there. It had nice atmosphere." He paused, and suddenly a joyous smile cracked across his pale, narrow lips. "That was where I met my wife."

Not for the first time in this conversation Jared was taken aback. This man was married?

"You have a wife?" Jared said.

Karol's smile grew a little thinner, and the wrinkles around his mouth became more pronounced "I did." He said. "We met in that library. I had just turned thirty." He stopped talking, only to give Jared an unusual look. "You are young. You will not have experienced this yet. Sometimes, when you meet someone, when you start talking to them, when you get to know who they are... something clicks. In that moment you realise they are the only person you want to be with. They make you happy in way no one else before has. You want to spend rest of your life with them... and they want to spend rest of their life with you."

Jared had not felt anything like that yet. He had a good idea of what having that feeling would be like, but up until now it was not something he had experienced. Perhaps he was still too young, and he just hadn't met that person yet. Admittedly it made him a little hopeful. But then he wondered how he would tell. Was a feeling like that any different to basic instinctual lust, or momentary attraction? How were you supposed to figure out that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with another person?

"Anastasiya Kuzma." Karol continued, speaking in a dreamlike way. "It didn't matter to me that she had freckles, or mole on her right cheek, or that her hands were frail and weathered, or that her lips were scarred. She was perfect to me. She was trained diplomat, someone who had actually studied politics, and was well read woman. We bonded over discussions of books and their contents. Both of us felt that connection straight away. One year later we got married... My beautiful Ana." He clasped his hands together.

Jared noticed that Karol wasn't wearing any kind of ring om any of his fingers. There was however a pale area of skin that ran around the ring finger on his left hand. If he was married, why wasn't he wearing a golden band? Though Karol spoke with such joy in his voice, there was evidence of something much sadder underlying it.

"What happened to her?" Jared asked. He could have asked where she was, but he had the feeling that Karol was not the sort of man to leave the woman he loved behind somewhere. He seemed to have such a strong connection to her, possibly unbreakable. He very much doubted that Karol would have come to England alone, certainly not if they were as close as he suggested.

"Forgive me. You must have been wondering all this time what relevance this had. You asked what it was that made me move to England and hunt criminals." He shook his head and tried to focus. "Sorry, I went on tangent. That answer is rather simple. It was my wife." He paused. "Rather, it was what happened to her."

Those sad undertones were becoming overtones, mixing in a new feeling of oncoming dread and sorrow. Karol had stopped smiling. That was the most unnerving part. Since they had begun talking he had tried to speak in a friendly, chipper voice, as much as his accent and difficulty with some English words would allow. But that voice had gone, replaced by a hollow one that made Jared shudder.

"My wife is dead." He stated. Those words alone were enough. They came from the throat of a man who had cried too much and finally lost the ability to shed tears. He had gone far past sorrow and grief to reach a stage like this.

Jared's mouth opened and close. How did he respond to that? Did he say he was sorry, did he offer his condolences, did he tell Karol that he understood his pain? He didn't, not in truth. He had lost his mother at a young age, but that was not the same. Children are eventually supposed to grow up and move away from their parents. He couldn't imagine losing his wife, someone he had promised to be with his entire life.

"She died five years ago." Karol continued, his voice only becoming more sorrowful and hollow. "We were married for five years. Five amazing years. I had fought we would get more time." He shook his head again, holding it low.

"How did she die?" Jared asked, concerned for the man. He was suddenly delving into a very depressing subject, one that clearly still hurt this individual a lot. They had both all but forgotten the situation that had brought them together.

Karol sniffed, rubbing his nose and lower lip with a coat sleeve. "She was murdered." He said. His tone was exactly the same, just as hollow and as straightforward. "I explained she was diplomat. She would go to other countries and talk with their leaders, usually to ask for support towards the PRR's rebuilding efforts. Barely any money is made in those countrries, so they need assistance from outside to keep going. She was from Belarus. I met her on her first visit to Poland, I helped show her around." He paused, realising that he had gone off track again. "One day she was sent request from the governing body of East Russia. They wanted to discuss the possibility of bringing end to skirmishes being carried out by both Russia and PRR. She thought she had chance to bring proper peace to her homeland."

Jared had a sudden, horrid realisation of where he was going with this? "And they killed her?"

"I don't know."

Jared was befuddled at the statement. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think she ever made it to their parliament." Karol continued. "I told her it was bad idea, that they were up to something. Russia is untrustworthy, they don't keep promises, they do what they like. They didn't want peace with the PRR, they wanted to destroy it and absorb its remains into Russia. Even so, she went anyway. She told me that I had to believe it was possible to make difference. If people don't believe that, nothing will change. So I let her go. She was supposed to be gone for one week. I didn't hear from her for two weeks... then three... then a month. By that time I had contacted her supervisor, who had also not heard from her. Then I contacted the police, but they refused to take action. There wasn't any evidence of a missing person, they said. Finally, after five weeks of nothing... a parcel arrived at my door." Karol's suddenly turned very pale, paler than his natural complexion. His eyes were wide with irises so narrow they were almost invisible. "Inside..." He gulped, sweating, trying not to break down. Jared had never seen a man look this way before. It was unsettling. Finally Karol managed to get the words out of his throat. "Inside was... my wife's head... completely separated from her neck..."

Silence filled that narrow alley. No amount of squeaking from rats or rusting of rubbish could end it. Jared stared horrified back at the traumatised man. Karol only looked at the floor, unable to cry but still feeling immense pain.

It took a bit of time for either of them to find the strength to speak. Jared was left speechless in a way he could never have expected. Karol somehow managed to gather his thoughts and continue a bit further with his story.

"You don't need to know about my sorrow, my grieving. It is something I would rather not talk of." He said. Jared couldn't blame him. "But once all that had passed, the only feeling I had left was anger. Someone had taken my Ana away from me." His fists clenched. "I had to find that man... and kill them!"

In its gaping state, Jared's mouth had gone dry. He closed it, licking his lips to moisturise them, then spoke up again. "Did the police not look into it?"

"They did..." Karol said, "...but they found nothing. There was no evidence left work with apparently. No fingerprints, no DNA, no articles of clothing, no witnesses, nothing. They couldn't figure out where she had died, or even _when_. It could have been anywhere between our home in Warsaw and Moscow's Parliamentary building. They never did find the rest of her body." He suddenly looked up with a glare that Jared hoped wasn't aimed at him. "But I managed to find something. When I looked into the method of her death, I came into contact with private detective from Germany, who was looking into same subject. My wife was not de first person to die this way."

Jared was at the edge of his dustbin with interest. "And?"

"He found out little about man who was committing these murders, but what little he did find was very useful." Karol stated through gritted teeth. "This individual had carried out murders like this all across Europe, in France, Italy, Germany, Denmark, Switzerland, Austria; all he had killed in the same way. He had left calling card, a severed head, which could be used as paper trail."

"Was that all he learned?" Jared asked with engrossed curiosity.

"Not all." Karol told him. "Though he was not successful in learning this man's identity, he did learn name that he went by. This man belonged to group of assassins who came from areas around Eastern Europe, the Caspian Sea, the Black Sea and the Arabic Peninsula. This individual had a very well-known and recognisable codename. They called him _Vanish_!"

The way he spoke sent shivers down Jared's spine. It was a rather simple and unthreatening word by itself, but the context Karol had placed behind it was what gave it power.

"So, this Vanish person... he brought you here?"

"The detective suspected he had target in this city." Karol explained, calming down a little. "I don't know if he found that target yet, or if he's still here... but I'll find him!" Suddenly that calm was lost behind a returning, rising rage. "I'll make him pay for what he did to my Ana!"

Something about this puzzled Jared. "I understand why you'd want revenge on this one guy, but why become a vigilante? Why waste time with other criminals?" Jared asked. "Why not even become a hero? We allow foreign heroes to work here. One of my teachers is from Russia, and my school's headmistress is American.

Karol laughed and shook his head. "Did you forget, I'm Quirkless too?" He stated with a gentle waving hand. "Though Poland is not as strict as your country when it comes to rules on Quirkless people, they don't allow them to become heroes either. No academy would train me. What choice did I have but to become vigilante?"

That explained a part of the question, but not all of it. Another thought sparked in Jared's mind. Perhaps the rest of his question would be answered by that.

"So, if you're not a hero and you're not a police man, then what's the whole justice thing about?"

Karol looked at him, puzzled. "Do you not see it?" He asked, not at all rhetorically.

"See what?" Jared asked back.

"The corruption." Karol stated. "It is everywhere. This city is festering! Criminals run the streets! Police are almost never seen, only in riots and major situations. Minsk was troubled city, yes, but not as lawless as this place. You English have let your own capital rot away like bad tooth!"

"Scarow isn't our capital." Jared corrected him. "That's Galafrei."

"Scarow and Galafrei are both its capital." Karol countered. "They are two halves of same place. You merely built wall between them, but they will always be one city at heart. Trust me, I have seen the roots that still connect them, and they run deep."

Now he was talking in riddles. Galafrei and Scarow had been seperated for close to a hundred years now. And what roots was he talking about? London had been an old city with a long history, everyone knew that, but once it was split in half much of that history had either been lost or become irrelevant.

"It's not easy to keep Scarow in check." Jared began to argue. "There are too many criminals for us heroes to keep an eye on. We're trying, as are the police, but there are only so many of us, and..." He trailed off. Karol was giving him an unnervingly judgmental look. Jared felt that he had said something wrong.

"How long have you lived in Scarow?" Karol asked him.

"I-I don't live here." Jared told him honestly and hoarsely.

Karol shook his head. "I've lived here for five years." He reminded him. "I've seen many things, many awful things. I know what this city is like. I know what its people are like. I know how your police treat those people. I know how your heroes treat those people. I know what heroes have done to this city, why it is the way it is. Don't act like you understand just how bad situation is if you've never been through it yourself!"

Jared felt ashamed of himself. In truth all he knew about Scarow came from the news, his father and his teachers. It was hard to view it as anything but a wretched hive of scum and villainy. No doubt that belief was exaggerated and biased to some extent, all beliefs were a little. But was it possible that his opinion towards Scarow was completely incorrect? Karol had suggested that heroes were responsible for the state it was in. Heroes like his teachers. Heroes like his father. Was that true? Were they responsible for the state this city was in?

"Even if heroes are responsible for the state this city is in, I am not one of those heroes." Jared told him defiantly.

"Perhaps you are not." Karol agreed. "But even den, unintentionally you are responsible. You were born British citizen, but not one from this city. You are hero. You can make difference, yet you have not. If you had, this city would be better place."

Anything Jared could say in response would not have helped him. Even if he tried to speak, he doubted his voice would hold any worthwhile words on it. It felt like Karol was putting the blame for the state Scarow was in on him. Jared had nothing to do with the building of the London wall, or the actions of other heroes. That was all long before he was born, far from his reach of influence.

"You seem like smart kid, Jared... regardless what I called you earlier." At least Karol was trying to be kind in a way, but his tone and attitude had made that attempt utterly worthless. "Do you honestly think that anyone in this country, even on this planet, is one-hundred percent innocent, moral or just all of the time? Even heroes have their dark secrets. They are human too, after all"

Jared just sat quietly, looking at the ground. He didn't even want to consider if that statement was true. It made him question the life he was leading far too much. He didn't need that, not right now, not when he was just getting started.

"But how is what you're doing any better?" He finally asked. He wanted to know what the vigilante would suggest. Just how was beating someone nearly to death better than what he claimed heroes were doing?

"I never said I was better than them," Karol responded, a little defensive "but it has to be done. The justice in this country is wrong. The justice in all countries is wrong. The courts are corrupt, too easy to trick, to easy to slide past. The jury have no true knowledge of what really happened. These ideals do not work, they are not enough. There should be no wasting of time, no mistakes. There should only be proof and punishment. Criminals should not be spared. They must face the absolute wrath of justice. Only then can there be end to crime. No second chances, no warnings. Only proof and punishment! That is true justice!"

Jared couldn't properly define the word justice. The matter was very complex, and different for each person. Though he had tried to pay attention in Aries' lessons on British Law, he still struggled to get his head around a lot of the subject. He barely knew anything about actual law, bar those that directly affected him. But he could say one thing for certain...

What Karol Wyrzykowski was doing was not _true_ justice.

"Do you punish all of them the same way?" He inquired, knowing that he had to ask. Surely he didn't believe all criminals were deserving of the most severe punishment. Not even the most vitriolic individuals believed that.

"No." Karol said. For a moment that brought Jared Wreath some relief. Then Karol continued. "Depending on the severity of their crime, I may beat them, disable them, disfigure them... or even kill them. It is true justice!"

He said it again. Each time he said that word it sounded more and more incorrect. This wasn't justice. It was closer to butchery. England hadn't allowed the death penalty for over one hundred and sixty five years. This man thought it was just to kill a criminal.

"So to you a thief deserves that sort a beating?" Jared asked, astounded by his statements.

"That man couldn't help himself." Karol continued, not at all concerned with Jared's horror at his beliefs. "If I had done any less he would have kept stealing. Now he will stop."

"You can't guarantee that!" Jared stated, sudden conviction in his heart that could rival Karol's. "And even if you could, there are other ways to stop them. There must be therapists and psychologists out there who can help a person overcome kleptomania."

"That takes too long." Karol responded calmly. "Justice has to be swift and sharp. People can only be helped if they want it, and most criminals do not want to be helped. Therapy is not good enough. Evil people must be purged from world, before they can kill or convert all good people who remain."

He talked about these people as if they were a disease, like they were a cist that had to be sliced from the body of the earth. But if Karol had said that no one on earth was one-hundred percent good, could that not be applied in the other way? That would imply that no one on earth was one-hundred present evil either. Was it fair to kill them off in that case, to not offer them any sort of chance to change? People could change, he knew that. He had seen the change Jason Jones was going through with his own eyes. Someone he had once thought of as a selfish and arrogant bully was now becoming his friend. What's more, Jared had helped that change come about. Jason was no criminal, but surely that idea could apply to them as well. Couldn't he help them change, just as he had helped Jason?

"I don't believe that." Jared stated firmly. "I think that all people deserve a second chance. What they do with that chance is up to them, but they deserve it nonetheless. Everyone is capable of changing if they want to."

Karol suddenly puffed up his chest and glared down at Jared in uncovered fury. "Then you are arrogant child who knows nothing!"

Jared jumped, not expecting this response. It had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly. He hadn't thought of Karol as an especially angry man, but it now seemed that he had simply been hiding most of it. His feeling of safety was sharply lost

Immediately Karol tried to calm down. "Sorry, that was rude of me. It was not right to call you that. Forgive me."

Jared tried to accept his apology, but how was he supposed to after an outburst like that. This was what Karol thought of him. They had been having such a good conversation until now.

Karol rubbed his forehead, breathing heavily and slowly beginning to calm down.

"Do not expect people to change, Jared Wreath." Karol warned quietly. "If you do, they will only use that against you, and it will be you who suffers for it."

There was a clatter to his side. Sharply Jared turned, rising from his seat. A metal dustbin lid struck the ground near the turning into their dead end alley.

A pair of heads slunk quickly behind the bin it had fallen from.

"Who's there?" Jared shouted, having seen this accidental reveal.

After a few moments passed, a pair of hands rose up from behind the bin, and following them was a head. Jared was a little stunned to realise who this hiding person were. Out of everyone in their class to go looking for him, he hadn't expected it to be Catherine Griffiths.

"Sorry." She muttered, picking up the lid with nervous, shaking hands. Her eyes were fixed upon the stranger.

That response in itself was odd. He had run off after an unknown criminal, and she had found him sat on a dustbin in a dead end alleyway, talking to a man who neither of them knew. Why was she the one apologising right now?

Jared's attention was instantly taken away from her, when Karol darted from his seat and towards the fence he had previously tried – and failed – to climb.

"Hey, wait!" Jared called after him.

Karol did not wait. He scampered up the wall, this time getting a successful footing on the links and pulling himself by his fingers. He didn't stop to look back. He did however shout something as he reached the top.

"Good luck, Jared Wreath! Prove that the heroes of this country can save it! Better yet... Prove me wrong!"

Jared pondered over what that was supposed to mean, as the vigilante escaped over the chain linked fence, his fingers the last thing they saw before he was gone. He was still pondering them when he turned back around to acknowledge Catherine, only to notice that she was also not by herself.

"Ty?"

Ty Urban gave a small, awkward wave at him.

"What are you both doing here?" Jared demanded, not quite getting over the shock of their sudden appearance.

"Kameron went looking for you." Catherine explained, interlocking her fingers nervously. "He asked us to come with him."

Jared looked past them, expecting to see the horned hero turn the corner. He was nowhere to be seen. "Where is he? Actually, where is everyone else?"

"We... split up." Catherine said. It didn't sound like the truth. Her pause gave that away.

Suddenly Jared was overcome with anxiety and paranoia. They had been watching him, and almost certainly they had heard his conversation with Karol Wyrzykowski. He barely knew anything about Ty or Catherine. Were they talkative people? Would they tell Aries that he had let a criminal go? Would they tell him that he had actually sat down with that same criminal and talked to him? Would they tell the others as well? How long would it take for the entire school to believe that he was cavorting with criminals?

"How much of that did you hear?" he asked with absolute caution in his voice. He would have to very cautious questions and respond with very specific answers if he wanted to avoid getting into trouble.

"Quite a bit." Catherine told him with an equally anxious nod.

"We heard most of it." Ty explained for her.

Jared bit his lip. This was bad. This was very bad.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" he pleaded. What choice did he have but to grovel at their feet? His career, his future, might well be in their hands, and almost certainly they knew it. If they wanted to they could ruin him right then and there, no doubt some of his fellow students wanted to. He hardly knew Ty or Catherine. Would they prove to be those kinds of students?

The two of them glanced at each other, then back at Jared.

"We won't tell." Catherine said.

Jared didn't almost believe her at first. A sentence like that had to be sarcastic. Her voice didn't help much, always being so quiet and nervous, he tell what tone was supposed to be behind which words. Her face wasn't lying though. She looked just as scared by this situation as he was.

"Thank you." Jared exhaled in a loud sigh.

"Who was that man?" Ty asked, looking up at the fence.

Jared turned and looked back at it for a second time. "I don't know." He lied. "Some foreigner, I think."

"Aries won't be happy to hear he got away." Catherine muttered.

"I think he'll be happy to know we aren't hurt." Jared told her. "Well, no use standing around here. You found me, so let's go find him again."

Jared made sure to pick up his Stun Gun again. He'd have to talk to Maisie about making improvements to it and his Power Glove, to make sure that he didn't accidentally electrocute himself in the future. It had sparked an idea however; a future gadget they could work on.

"Where did you get to?" Aries asked, rather harshly, as he saw Jared approaching him with Ty and Catherine following. All three of them were nervous to be back, knowing the punishment they would most certainly face.

"Hehe... hehe... hehe... uh... sorry." Jared muttered, trying to act as if his reckless actions weren't important.

Aries wasn't going to let him get away that easily, however. He approached the trio and stood looming over Jared, glaring down at them with judging, stern, oval eyes. Jared had never faced the anger of Aries before, but had seen the state of the other students who had afterwards.

"I hope you understand how stupid your actions were today, Master Wreath." He stated in a voice that could rival his father's. "By running off like that you not only put your life in danger, you put the lives of your fellow students at risk too. I was forced to leave them with only one police officer to protect them, and an unconscious criminal at their feet. You are very lucky that you were not hurt yourself, or worse!"

"I understand." Jared muttered. He couldn't hide his guilt. He hadn't thought about what running off after a criminal might do for his class, but now that he was thinking about it he felt like a fool. "I won't do it again."

"You had better not." Aries stated coldly. "If you do, I'm afraid we'll have to consider rash discipline." Assumedly Aries was not considering discipline along the lines of a smacked bottom. That was a bit of a strange way to punish a boy of sixteen. Jared could only hope and pray that he wouldn't be expelled from the academy. He would have nowhere else to study. His hero career would be over if they did that.

"Don't be hard on the kid, Goaty." The shark-headed criminal stated from beside the hero and his accompanying police officer. "Not many 'eroes would run inta dark alleys by 'emselves. That's true bravery, that."

"That's suicidal." The officer corrected him, and gave him a small shove in the back with the butt of his gun.

"Did you manage to find the target at least?" Aries asked with final curiosity.

Jared looked away awkwardly. "I did... but he got away." He turned back to Aries and gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, sir."

Aries sighed. "Well, at least none of you got hurt. We should be glad of that." He rubbed his balding head, the hood of his hoodie hanging around his neck. "We'd best get you three back to the others, and make sure they're okay too."

He seemed to give Catherine and Ty a small unhappy look before turning around. They noticed it to, and both of them instantly looked away, just as Jared had done. What had they done wrong to deserve his disappointment? They were the ones who had brought Jared back to the group.

Jared himself was mostly lost in thought as they walked back through the alleys together. He was still thinking on everything he and Karol Wyrzykowski had talked about. To meet someone so trouble, so twisted, had shined a new light on his understanding of the world. People were more complex than just good and just bad, no matter what the Polish man thought. But then he was right that people could not be made to change, they had to do so themselves. Was it actually worthwhile to try. And what he had been saying about this assassin who removed people's heads. If he was in Scarow, was there a chance that Jared would encounter him. It was a big city, but it was still a possibility. He knew that he knew little about the world of heroes, but just how little _did_ he know?

He knew that he would almost certainly run into Karol in the future. He didn't know where, he didn't know when... but he had a feeling that one day they would meet again.

* * *

 **So this chapter is seriously long, and for the first time in a while this was actually intentional. I had a lot of world building I wanted to do for this part of the story, as well as introduce a new major character and their backstory. Karol Wyrzykowski will not be relevant again for a short while, but he does have a big part to play in planned arcs I have for the future. So I hope you guys got to know him, regardless of whether you like, hate, agree or disagree with him.**

 **So, this chapter's question is:** _ **What song would best fit as an intro track for this story? (Either a theme or ordinary track)**_

 **I can think of several that I listen to that would fit well in this slot:**

 _ **Sticks 'N' Stones by Jamie T**_

 _ **The '59 Sound by The Gaslight Anthem**_

 _ **Faint by Linkin Park**_

 _ **Fader by The Temper Trap**_

 _ **Palahniuk's Laughter by Fightstar**_

 _ **Drown by Bring Me The Horizon**_

 _ **Paint Your Target by Fightstar**_

 _ **My Hero by Foo Fighters**_

 **It would certainly be very interesting to hear what sort of music my readers associate with this story. Maybe you listen to something calmer or less aggressive, or perhaps more so.**

 **I've been on a role with writing more recently, so I'm going to try and get the next chapter up sooner. That's not a promise, but if this mood stays I may be able to achieve it. The more serious parts of this arc are coming into play, and baby I'm ready for them!**

 **...Are you?**


End file.
